As the old scoundrel sat waiting he caught sight of me.
"Look yere, kid," he shouted, "ye see this knife ?" He drew a long, wicked bowie.

"Well, I'm going to sharpen that to finish up the job that Charlie Dunn began the other day." And scowling horribly at me he began whetting the knife on a stone he picked up from the table.
Now, I knew something about a gun, and there was a gun handy.

It was upstairs, and I lost no time in getting it.

Sitting on the stairs I cocked it and held it across my knees.

I am sure that I should have shot him had he attempted to come up those stairs.
He didn't test my shooting ability, however.