With all this in his mind the Sergeant swung out of the saddle, dropping the rein to the ground, confident that the tired cow-pony would remain quiet.

His belt was buckled outside the army overcoat, and he drew his revolver, tested it, and slipped it back loosely into the holster.

Then he pulled out the rifle from under the flap of the saddle, grimly handling it in his gloved fingers.

Hughes, his head sunk into his fur collar, his hot breath steaming in the cold atmosphere, watched him curiously.
"Lookin' fer a right smart fight, I reckon," he said, a trifle uneasily.

"Believe me, yer ain't goin' ter find thet fellar no spring chicken.