The man gasped and choked and struggled, and sat up, brushing the water out of his eyes with a sleeve.

His blinking eyes slowly swept the camp, finally coming to rest on Hippy Wingate's face.
"Question him," suggested Grace.
"Who sent you here to try to bluff us ?" asked Hippy sternly.
"Ah'll show ye." The mountain man's revolver was out of its holster in a flash as he leaped to his feet, and aimed it at Hippy.

He pulled the trigger, but there was no report, only the click of the hammer as it struck the rim of an empty chamber of the revolver.
Five times did the fellow pull the trigger of his weapon, but with no better result, Hippy standing at ease before him, a smile on his face.
"I have a perfect right to shoot you for that, Mister 'Constable.' I may yet decide to do so.

Who sent you here to play tricks on us ?" Uttering an exclamation of disgust, the mountain man thrust his revolver into its holster, one hand having crept about his ammunition belt and found it empty.

He appeared to be dazed, but whether from the rap Hippy had given him, or because of the mysterious disappearance of his cartridges, they were not certain.
"Are you going to answer my question ?" The fellow shook his head.
"Do you know Jed Thompson ?" The mountaineer regarded his questioner sullenly, scowlingly, and without much change of expression.