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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Ain't you been enough of a fool already to-day?" interrupted Racey. "You ain't asking for it, are you?" "You can't run no blazer on me," denied the other, furiously. Racey promptly holstered his sixshooter. "Now's yore best time," he said, quietly.
Was a time, not so long ago, when he took his abilities for granted. Now he was getting old enough to have to verify them. He thumbed on the safety and holstered the pistol, then picked up the glove and put it on again. Never saw so blasted many land-prawns as this summer. They'd been bad last year, but nothing like this.
Dunnan's eyes widened in momentary incredulity; then his knees gave way, and he fell forward on his face. Trask thumbed on the safety and holstered the pistol, and looked at the body on the concrete. It hadn't made the least difference. It had been like shooting a snake, or one of the nasty scorpion-things that infested the old buildings in Rivington. Just no more Andray Dunnan.
The young newcomer's bullet had struck the butt of the holstered gun and smashed it to bits. Garvey stared at the handleless gun as if stupefied. Then his amazed glance fell upon the stranger, who was smiling easily through the flickering powder fumes. "Who who are yuh?" he stammered. The stranger smiled. "Kid Wolf," he drawled, "from Texas, sah.
"But I don't fancy the Ullr Company is going to be impressed by it." "The Ullr Company," von Schlichten replied, "is six and a half parsecs away. It takes a ship six months to get from here to Terra, and another six months to get back. A radio message takes a little over twenty-one years, each way." He holstered the pistol again.
He waited, made a guess at the location of the person who shouted, and turned that way, changing the reins from his right hand to his left and pulling his holstered six-shooter within easy reach of his hand. This was not the country, his was not the errand, for carelessness, and Lance was taking no risk.
There was an involuntary shout of alarm from the direction of the road; at least one of the policemen had escaped the blast. Hradzka holstered his weapon and crept away for some distance, keeping under cover, then turned and waited for some sign of the presence of his enemies. For some time nothing happened; he decided to turn hunter against the men who were hunting him.
When he was done, she slid to her feet and took position beside him, laying her hand on his shoulder. Behind her, by the side of the bunk, was a short log, set on end as a little table, on which rested the holstered automatic which De Launay had left with her. "It appears then," she said, when he had finished, "that, in any event I have no right to this mine.
A round dot had suddenly appeared two inches left of his breast bone. He dropped heavily, grunting as he struck the ground. Paying no more attention to him, Kid Wolf holstered his own smoking .45 and bent over and picked up Goliday's ivory-handled weapon. He smiled grimly as he peered into the muzzle. A very peculiar gun!
I holstered my pistol, pushed past Joyce, and trotted for the lift. The mob behind me broke up, talking, as men under long habit ran for action stations. Clay was operating calmly under pressure. He sat at the main screen, and studied the blip, making tiny crayon marks. "She's too far out for a reliable scanner track, Captain," he said, "but I'm pretty sure she's braking."
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