"See how I trust you," said Billy sardonically, holding up the judge's six-shooter within ten inches of the judge's eyes. "You could almost grab this gun out of my hand if you felt like it. I really dunno but what I hope you'll feel like it."
But the judge did not feel like it. He perceived without difficulty the gray splotch on the frame of the six-shooter that marked the spot where Billy Wingo's lead had struck, and he felt absolutely no inclination to gamble further with fate. Not he. No!
Billy tucked the judge's six-shooter into his waistband and ran a hand over and under the jurist's outer clothing.
"You might be carrying a derringer or something," he murmured in apology.
But he found no other weapon, and he returned to his seat to await the arrival of Riley Tyler and Guerilla Melody.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE TRAP
Guerilla Melody regarded the judge without expression. "Huh," he grunted. "Huh."
The judge did not look at him. He had cheated Melody in a cattle deal the previous year and had since found himself unable to look Melody in the eye. Some villains are like that. They are usually of the cheaper variety.