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No wonder the stranger's trigger finger had been paralyzed. Barbara's father, indeed! How stupid of him not to guess. On the heels of his first surprise came another thought; suppose that old Paladin should consider that he, Gray, had shown weakness in allowing another to assume the burden of his quarrel? And suppose he should tell his daughter about it! That would be a situation, indeed.

Its sides pulsed lightly and regularly against her palms. "The level of the stuff keeps going down," she added. "Good," said Holati. He pulled a chair up to the table and sat down opposite her. He looked broodingly at plasmoid 113-A. "You really think this thing likes me personally?" Trigger inquired. Her boss said, "It's eating, isn't it? And moving.

Unable to walk, he had received at his request two pistols, and now he was firing them as fast as he could pull the triggers and reload. "Shoot him! Shoot him at once!" cried Urrea. His own pistol was empty now, but a dozen musket balls were fired into the room. Bowie, hit twice, nevertheless raised himself upon his elbow, aimed a pistol with a clear eye and a steady hand, and pulled the trigger.

He was a stalwart fellow and Henry knew by his paint that he was a Miami. Again the great youth was loath to fire from ambush, but a desperate need drives scruples away, and the rifle muzzle, thrusting forward yet an inch or two more, bore directly upon the Indian's heart. The man was halfway down the bank, about thirty feet high at that point, when Henry pulled the trigger.

My technicians inform me there may be some risk of damaging its contents if they attempt to force it open. We don't want that. So we'll talk a bit about the proper way of opening it." She gave Trigger her little smile. "And Doctor Veetonia will verify the accuracy of any statements made on the matter." She considered. "Oh, and then I shall ask a few questions. Not many. And you will answer them.

Wilmot Allen failed, at least without honor, filled himself full of brandy, cocked a forty-five-calibre revolver, put the muzzle in his mouth, pulled the trigger, blew off the back of his head, and was "accidentally shot while cleaning the weapon." The real tragedy was that so good a career as the son's should have come to so untimely an end in so good a collegiate world as Yale.

But before the swaying figure could answer the call of the cool brain directing it, Howard sprang in upon him and struck with his clubbed revolver. And Monte Devine, his finger crooking to the trigger as the blow fell, went down heavily from the impact of the gun-barrel against his head. Ed True emptied his cylinder and cursed and began filling it again. Howard stood a moment over Monte Devine.

It was spring-loaded and triggered to move right across the path of the rocket when we fired." "What does spring-loaded mean?" Mrs. Brant asked. "The bar was activated by a spring. The spring was under tension. The steel bar lay along one of the pieces of the frame, and was held by a latch. When the trigger withdrew the latch, the spring pushed the bar across the path of the rocket.

Mantelish stood at a work bench behind him. "Hi!" he said. "Hi, yourself. When did you get in?" "Just now. Could you pick up the whoosis-and-whichis and bring it up here?" "Right now?" "If you can," Quillan said. "The professor's got something new, he thinks." "I'm on my way," said Trigger. "Take about five minutes."

With a fierce imprecation, the German reached for his revolver, drew it quickly, and aimed it at the dog. But, before he could pull the trigger, Chester leaped forward, and, with a quick movement of his arm, knocked the weapon from the German's hand. The German turned angrily on the lad. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded, in a rage.