Joe laughed, but the laugh died in his throat, choked off suddenly by what he saw when Mart pulled open the door.
Casey turned suspiciously at the laugh and the sound of the door opening.

He swung round and steadied himself with his back against the bunk when he saw Mart and Joe lift their hands and hold them there, palms outward, a bit higher than their heads.

Something in the sight enraged Casey unreasoningly.

A flick of the memory may have carried him back to the old days in the mining camps when Casey drove stage and hold-ups were frequent.
"What 'r yuh tryin' to pull on me now ?" he bawled, and rushed headlong toward them, pushing them forcibly out into the open with a collision of his body against Joe.

Outside, a voice harshly commanded him to throw up his hands--and it was then that Casey Ryan's Irish fighting blood boiled and bubbled over.