Morgan, I've got
five hundred here to cover your stake."
"Make him give you odds, Morgan," said another voice, "because----"
A glance from Silent cut the suggestion short. After that there was
little loud conversation. The stakes were large. The excitement made
the men hush the very tones in which they spoke. Morgan moistened his
white lips.
"You c'n see I'm not packin' any shootin' irons," said Dan. "Has
anybody got any suggestions?"
Every gun in the crowd was instantly at his service. They were
heartily tempted to despise Dan, but as one with the courage to
attempt the impossible, they would help him as far as they could. He
took their guns one after the other, weighed them, tried the action,
and handed them back. It was almost as if there were a separate
intelligence in the ends of his fingers which informed him of the
qualities of each weapon.
"Nice gun," he said to the first man whose revolver he handled, "but I
don't like a barrel that's quite so heavy. There's a whole ounce too
much in the barrel."
"What d'you mean?" asked the cowpuncher. "I've packed that gun for
pretty nigh eight years!"
"Sorry," said Dan passing on, "but I can't work right with a top-heavy
gun.
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