It was late in the evening when Hashknife and Sleepy got their first chance to see the notorious Len Ayres. They were in the Oasis Saloon playing a game of pool when Len came in. Breezy was in the game and pointed Len out to them as he stopped near the bar, looking the room over.
Hashknife was more interested in Charley Prentice, although he did not know who Prentice was. The ex-cashier was standing at the bar where he had imbibed considerable whisky, and his extreme nervousness had attracted Hashknife.
His eyes seemed dilated and he continually fussed at his sleeves, rubbed his chin, and otherwise gave evidence that his nerves were in a bad way. Hashknife decided that this man was on the verge of delirium tremens, and would bear watching. His clothes were wrinkled, his collar dirty and he had not shaved recently. He left the bar and came down toward the pool table, walking rather unsteadily and acting as though he didn’t know what to do next. Hashknife was in the act of making a shot, but lifted his cue and looked at Prentice, who was so close that he interfered with the cue.
Hashknife was about to speak to him when he noticed that Prentice was staring at Len Ayres, who was watching a poker game. For the space of possibly five seconds Prentice looked at Len Ayres, and then, without any warning, slipped a hand in his coat pocket, quickly drew out a heavy Colt revolver, snapped back the hammer and pointed the gun at Len’s back.
CHAPTER XI: ATTEMPTED MURDER
As quick as a flash Hashknife swung his billiard cue in a short arc, struck Prentice’s right wrist a sharp blow, knocking the gun out of his hand. But the force of the blow also caused Prentice to jerk back on the trigger, and the gun went off before it clattered to the floor. The bullet drove into the floor just short of the poker table.
Len Ayres whirled at the report of the gun, and Hashknife saw as swift a piece of gun play as he ever saw in his life. Len had whirled, drawn his gun and was backing away, swinging the muzzle of his gun menacingly, almost before the thud of the shot had died away in the room.
But all he saw was Charley Prentice, clinging to his right wrist with his left hand, the gun on the floor at his feet, and Hashknife dangling a billiard cue in his two hands.
The room was in an uproar in a moment. Harry Cole stepped close to Prentice, grasping him by the arm, while Prentice mumbled plaintively and tried to draw away, but the big gambler yanked him back, his eyes snapping.
“Yuh can put up yore gun, Len,” said Breezy nervously. “I seen it all. Prentice tried to shoot yuh in the back, but Hartley here smashed him across the wrist with a pool cue. Mebbe I better put the danged fool in jail.”