deep-throated laughter. The gun whirled in his hand and the butt crashed heavily on the bar.
"Drink, damn you!" he thundered. "Step up an' drink to the health of Jim Silent!"
The wavering line slowly approached the bar. Silent pulled out his other gun and shoved them both across the bar.
"Take 'em," he said. "I don't want 'em to get restless an' muss up this joint."
The bartender took them as if they were covered with some deadly poison, and the outlaw stood unarmed! It came suddenly to Buck what the whole manœuvre meant. He gave away his guns in order to tempt someone to arrest him. Better the hand of the law than the yellow glare of those following eyes. Yet not a man moved to apprehend him. Unarmed he still seemed more dangerous than six common men.
The long rider jerked a whisky bottle upside down over a glass. Half the contents splashed across the bar. He turned and faced the crowd, his hand dripping with the spilled liquor.
"Whose liquorin'?" he bellowed.
Not a sound answered him.
"Damn your yaller souls! Then all by myself I'll drink to——"
He stopped short, his eyes wild, his head tilted
