Billy scraped up to the table as Tip turned away. "What's the matter with this pepper pot, anyway?"
Tip turned to look. Billy picked up the pepper pot slowly and stared hard at it. Felix Craft craned his neck.
"I don't see anything the matter with it," said Craft.
"Don't you?" murmured Billy, his fingers busy with the removable top. "Look here."
Sam Larder did not move, but both Tip and Craft obeyed. In fact, they obeyed with such good will that the handful of pepper that Billy instantly swept into their faces dusted up their nostrils as well as into their eyes.
In throwing the pepper Billy had employed his left hand. This left hand had not completed the motion before Billy was reaching for the platter of eggs with his right hand.
It was unfortunate for Sam Larder that he was a slow-going gentleman. The platter struck him edgewise over the eye when his six-shooter had barely cleared the holster. The six-shooter thudded to the floor. Sam and his chair went over backward and lay together in a tangle amid the fragments of broken platter and the remains of several eggs. On the way down some of the eggs painted Sam's countenance and part of his shirt a bright yellow. But Sam made no attempt to rise and scrape himself off. He was unconscious.
Billy, arriving in Sam's immediate neighborhood a split second after Sam struck the floor, scooped up the fallen six-shooter and wheeled back to face his other two enemies. But they were too occupied with their very real misery to be an immediate menace. Felix Craft was sitting on the floor, clawing at his eyes and swearing continuously. Tip, coughing and sneezing, was not swearing. Perhaps he had not sufficient breath. At any rate, he was on his feet, arms spread wide, feeling his way along the wall toward the door giving into the hall.
Billy cat-footed up behind Tip and snatched away his six-shooter. Tip spun round at the touch, but Billy dodged away from the clutching hands.
Bang! a revolver bullet cut a button from his vest and tucked into the wall at his elbow. Billy's sudden movement had saved his life. He leaped back another two yards to get out of the smoke and crouched, balancing his tense body on the balls of his feet.