Throw down that gun!" "What! You--" "Yes, you are my prisoner, I 've followed you from Dodge.

Throw down the gun!" It was dropped sullenly into the snow.
"Now, Hughes, go ahead, and disarm those Indians." The cowman shuffled forward, revolver in hand, circling to keep safely beyond reach of Dupont, who eyed him maliciously.

The latter was so buttoned up in a buffalo coat as to make it impossible for him to reach a weapon, and Hamlin permitted his eyes to waver slightly, as he watched the Indians.

What occurred the next instant came so suddenly as scarcely to leave an impression.

It was swift, instinctive action, primitive impulse.