Straight as an arrow, broad shouldered, yet small waisted as a woman, his hair hanging low over his coat-collar, his face smooth shaven except for a long moustache, and emotionless, the revolvers in his belt untouched, he simply looked at the two, and then struck the revolver out of the drunken man's hand.

It fell harmless to the ground.
"And don't you pick it up until I tell you, Scott," he said quietly.

"If you do you've got to fight me." Without apparently giving the fellow another thought, he wheeled and faced the others.
"Oh, it's you, is it, Doctor?
The drunken fool won't make any more trouble.

Where were you taking the lady ?" "To the hotel, Bill." "I'll walk along with you.

I reckon the boys will give us plenty of room." He glanced over the crowd, and then more directly at Scott.
"Pick up your gun!" the brief words snapping out.