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Pringle kicked his gun from the holster and set foot upon it; one of his own guns covered the bartender and the other kept watch on Espalin, silent on his still-tilted chair. "Who're you!" challenged Foy. "Friend with the countersign. Don't shoot! Don't shoot me, anyhow." Foy rose from hand and knee to knee and foot. This rescuer, so opportunely arrived from nowhere, seemed to be an ally.
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