The weapon leaped into sight. "You're right I have! I'll drill you full of holes as soon as wink."
Weaver laughed contemptuously. "Begin pumping, son."
"I'm going to take my sister home with me. You'll give orders to your men to that effect."
"Guess again."
"I tell you I'll shoot your hide full of holes if you don't!" cried the excited boy.
"Oh, no, you won't."
Buck Weaver was flirting with death, and he knew it. The very breath of it fanned his cheek. During that moment he lived gloriously; for he was a man who revelled in his sensations. He laughed into the very muzzle of the six-shooter that covered him.
"Quit your play acting, boy," he jeered.
"I give you one more chance before I blow out your brains."
The cattleman put his unwounded hand into his trousers pocket and lounged forward, thrusting his smiling face against the cold rim of the blue barrel.