Dave Morgan’s hands jerked shoulder-high, and the other three were quick to follow his lead. Even a tenderfoot could score a bull’s-eye with a shotgun at fifteen feet.
‘Good, kid!’ exclaimed Hashknife, while Dave Morgan swore bitterly, as he watched Sleepy and Hashknife gather up all the guns.
‘You can take a rest with that gun now,’ laughed Hashknife.
‘Well, I’m glad,’ sighed Rex. ‘It is very heavy, and I was afraid some one might know it isn’t loaded.’
Hashknife backed against the wall, gun in hand, and laughed at the expressions on their faces when they realized that the shotgun was not loaded.
‘You can’t get away with this,’ gritted Morgan, facing Hashknife. ‘By God, we’ll show you how to tamper with things that don’t concern yuh. And we’ll make that half-witted, white-faced kid wish he’d kept out of it.’
‘I got away with it—my part of it,’ said Hashknife coldly. ‘I think that kid outsmarted yuh, and saved yuh from lynchin’ a man to-night. And as far as yuh doin’ anythin’ about it—cut yore wolf loose.’
‘We were goin’ to take him to jail,’ said Eller.
‘You’re a liar!’
Eller bristled angrily. ‘You wouldn’t call me that if I had a gun, you hatchet-faced bum.’