"Don't alarm yourself," I replied, laughing. "I have got a revolver, and can shoot a kangaroo if I get hungry."
By chance I drew my revolver from my belt as I spoke, and saw that, it was apparently in good order, although I thought that the caps looked as though they had been put on in a bungling manner. The work did not look like mine, and I had a faint suspicion that the pistol had been tampered with.
I said nothing to my friend, but dropped the rein upon my horse's nock, and removed one of the caps of the nipple. I saw nothing to alarm me until I had wiped away the corrosive substance that clung to the iron, when, to my surprise, I discovered that a small plug had been driven into the priming tube, thus rendering the charge in the barrel useless. The discovery was valuable, for I did not know what designs the man who did the work might have on us.
A brief inspection convinced me that the remaining five tubes were in the same condition, and then I called for a halt.
"What's the matter now?" demanded my friend, who was considerable in advance of me.
"A slight discovery that may prove of value."
"What is it—another bottle of liquor?"
"No, of more importance than that. Had it been a bottle I should have hardly called you back," I replied.
"No, I'll be sworn that you would not. But go on. Tell me what you have found out now."
"Simply that our pistols have been tampered with. At least mine has."