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Hardy took one look at his captor and decided to obey and to lose no time in doing so. The Texan's eyes were crackling gray-blue. A large sheaf of bills was in an inner drawer, along with a canvas bag of gold coins. Ordering Hardy to take a chair opposite, Kid Wolf began to count the money carefully. To allow himself the free use of his hands, he holstered both his guns.
Why, Boyd was only a small boy, usually tagging his impatient elders, not this tall, almost exact copy of his dead brother. "Sure, I'm Boyd. And it's true then, ain't it, Drew? General Morgan's coming back here? Where?" He glanced over his shoulder once more as if expecting to see a troop prance up through the bushes along the stream. Drew holstered the revolver.
Then suddenly he snapped himself erect and with a single, dexterous movement holstered the weapon. Then his right hand came suddenly out toward Hollis. "Shake!" he said. "By , you're white!" Hollis smiled as he returned the hearty handclasp. "You're cert'nly plum grit," assured Ten Spot as he released Hollis's hand and stepped back the better to look at the latter.
"I'm goin' to make yuh crawl on yore hands and knees, Cotton-picker!" He holstered his gun, watching Kid Wolf cunningly, and drew back a little to give himself leeway with his whip. Then he began to roll up his sleeve. "I'll make yuh beg, Cotton-picker," he taunted insultingly, as he bared his brawny right arm. "And if yuh run, I'll shoot not to kill; that'd be too easy.
You n'ruhar have to meet, after you are to the Lords introduced." Tarlac holstered his blaster, following his Clan Mother and clanmates into the building. The entranceway was about ten meters square, with halls to either side and double doors straight ahead leading to the clanhome's heart, the gathering hall. When the double doors slid open, Tarlac couldn't see much except Traiti.
Ritter holstered the Beretta and got out a cigarette. "I hope you didn't leave your lighter upstairs," he told Rand. Rand produced and snapped it, holding the flame out to his assistant. "Dave," he lectured, "the Perfect Butler always has a lighter in good working order; lighting up the mawster is part of his duties. Remember that, the next time you have a buttling job."
"'Do-funnies' daddy calls them," said Frances, smiling. "Ah! here he is." The old ranchman came in, the holstered pistol still slung at his hip. "All secure for the night, Daddy?" she asked, looking at him tenderly. "Locked, barred, and bolted," returned her father. "I tell you, Pratt, we're something of a fort here when we go to bed.
Cotton understood that. Glancing over his shoulder at Gary he turned and ran toward the timber. Pete stepped to the crumpled figure and gazed at the bubbling hole in the chest. Then he stepped hack and mechanically holstered his gun which he had pulled as he spoke to Cotton. "They'll git me for this," he whispered to himself. "It was an even break but they'll git me."
Then without a word he unbuckled his cartridge belt which held his holstered gun, untied the strap about his thigh and laid the belt with the weapon upon the table. "Roger!" said the girl. The sob again was in her voice. She reached out and placed a hand upon his arm. An elderly man appeared in the doorway from the kitchen. "Father, this is Roger," said the girl hurriedly. "He's back."
An assistant of Leithgow's, at present on watch there, moved occasionally with instrument in hand to time the fevered pulses. "I must ask you to stand back here, Dr. Ku," said the Hawk, indicating a spot some five feet from the nearest cot. His left arm hung easily by his side, the hand resting by the butt of his holstered raygun; and the position was not accidental.
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