He extended one of the guns, butt foremost, as if surrendering it, the action being free and open, save for the fact that his forefinger was crooked and thrust through the trigger-guard; then, with the slightest jerk of the wrist, the gun spun about, the handle jumped into his palm, and instantly there was a click as his thumb flipped the hammer.

It was the old "road-agent spin," which Gale as a boy had practised hours at a time; but that this man was in earnest he showed by glancing upward sharply when the trader laughed.
"This one hangs all right," he said; "give me a box of cartridges." He emptied his gold-sack in payment for the gun and ammunition, then remarked: "That pretty nearly cleans me.

If I had the price I'd take them both." Gale wondered what need induced this fellow to spend his last few dollars on a fire-arm, but he said nothing until the man had loosened the bottom buttons of his vest and slipped the weapon inside the band of his trousers, concealing its handle beneath the edge of his waistcoat.

Then he inquired: "Bound for the outside ?" "No.

I'm locating here." The trader darted a quick glance at him.