Pete was swallowing hard, his face having turned lead color.
"Won't you oblige us by going at once, Pete ?" inquired Blaisdell coolly.
"Not until I've settled my score here," snarled the fellow.

"Not until I've evened up with you, you-----" At the same time Pete reached for his revolver in evident earnest.
Both his words and his movement were nipped short.
Morris and Rice were the only men in the engineers' party who carried revolvers.

They carried weapons, in the day time, for protection against a very real foe, the Rocky Mountain rattlesnakes, which infested the territory through which the engineers were then working.
Both these engineers reached swiftly for their weapons.
Before they could produce them, however, or ore Pete could finish what he was saying, Tom Reade leaped up from his campstool, closing in behind the bad man.
"Ow-ow! Ouch!" yelled Pete.

"Let go, you painted coyote." "Walk right out of the tent, and I shall rejoice to let you depart," responded Tom steadily.
Standing behind the fellow, he had, with his strong, wiry fingers, gripped Pete hard right over the biceps muscle of each arm.

Like many another of his type Pete had developed no great amount of bodily strength.