"But what'll he do if you pull a gun yourself?" asked Joe Pollard, showing a sudden concern.
"He'll stand for it--long enough," said Terry. "Try him!"
There was a devil in Slim that morning. He snatched up a shining bit of quartz and hurled it--straight at El Sangre! There was no warning--just a jerk of the arm and the stone came flashing.
"Try your gun--on that!"
The words were torn off short. The heavy gun had twitched into the hand of Terry, exploded, and the gleaming quartz puffed into a shower of bright particles that danced toward the earth. El Sangre flew into a paroxysm of educated bucking of the most advanced school. The steady voice of Terry Hollis brought him at last to a quivering stop. The rider was stiff in the saddle, his mouth a white, straight line.
He shoved his revo
