"
"You damned pup--" began Sandy.
He stopped short and stared with a peculiar fascination at Dan, who
started to speak again. His voice had changed--not greatly, for its
pitch was the same and the drawl was the same--but there was a purr
in it that made every man stiffen in his chair and make sure that his
right hand was free. The ghost of his former smile was still on his
lips, but it was his eyes that seemed to fascinate Sandy.
"Maybe I'm wrong, partner," he was saying, "an' maybe you c'n prove
that _your_ gun ain't jest ornamental hardware?"
What followed was very strange. Sandy was a brave man and everyone at
that table knew it. They waited for the inevitable to happen. They
waited for Sandy's lightning move for his gun. They waited for the
flash and the crack of the revolver. It did not come. There followed a
still more stunning wonder.
"You c'n see," went on that caressing voice of Dan, "that everyone
is waitin' for you to demonstrate--which the lady is most special
interested."
And still Sandy did not move that significant right hand. It remained
fixed in air a few inches above the table, the fingers stiffly spread.
He moistened his white lips.
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