Taken unawares from behind, he whirled and then went down under the weight of men used to "wrassling" calves.

Even old Lauman was no match for them, and presently he found himself stretched upon the porch with three Lazy Eight boys sitting on his person; which, being inclined to portliness, he found very uncomfortable.
Moved by an impulse he had no name for, Thurston snatched the sheriff's revolver from its scabbard.

As the heap squirmed pantingly upon the porch he stepped into the doorway to avoid being tripped, which was the wisest move he could have made, for it put him in the shadow--and there were men of the Circle Bar whose trigger-finger would not have hesitated, just then, had he been in plain sight and had they known his purpose.
"Just hold on there, boys," he called, and they could see the glimmer of the gun-barrel.

Those of the Lazy Eight laughed at him.
"Aw, put it down, Bud," Park admonished.

"That's too dangerous a toy for you to be playing with--and yuh know damn well yuh can't hit anything." "I killed a steer once," Thurston reminded him meekly, whereat the laugh hushed; for they remembered.
"I know I can't shoot straight," he went on frankly, "but you're taking that much the greater chance.