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A sportsman he might be, of the sort who can shoot straight when necessity demands it, but never of that class who prowl through the forests with fingers tingling to pull the trigger, dreading to lose a chance of "letting blood" from any slim-legged moose or velvet-nosed buck which may run their way. It needed Doc's praise to make him feel fully satisfied with his deed.
The main item in his report to her had been the significance of the 112-113 plasmoid unit. He'd also reported that Trigger Argee had become unconscious on Harvest Moon. They'd considered the possibility that somebody was controlling Trigger Argee, or attempting to control her, because of her connections with the plasmoid operations.
Amazed, Buck hastily pulled the trigger twice again without results. As he realized that in some mysterious manner the weapon had been tampered with, his teeth grated, but with no perceptible pause in the swiftness of his action he drew back his arm and hurled the pistol straight into the greaser's face. His aim was deadly.
He stood and stared; and, while the pistol yet smoked in his hand, I saw Dr. Beauregard step forth from his shelter, step delicately past the corpse, and raise his musket; and heard his clear, resonant voice call out "Both hands up, Mr. Glass, if you please!" Glass's arm fell limp by his side, as though Dr. Beauregard had actually pulled the trigger and winged him.
I had two bullets remaining in my revolver; at least I thought so, and I raised it, and pulled the trigger a fourth time, thus placing the yemschik effectually out of that combat, and rendering it impossible for him ever to engage in others; and then, when barely ten feet away from the scoundrelly captain, I leveled the weapon at him and ordered him to throw down his sword.
But this happened to be a time and place where prudence did not pay. There was a concerted gasp of outrage. Men leaped to their feet. Large knives came out of elaborate holsters. They waved knives as they came. He held down the stun-pistol trigger and traversed the rushing men. The whining buzz of the weapon was inaudible, at first, but before he released the trigger it was plainly to be heard.
"I guess we sha'n't have to shoot much," said the policeman, still swinging his locust. "Anyway, we shant begin it. If it comes to a fight, though," he said, with a look at the men under the scooping rim of his helmet, "we can drive the whole six thousand of 'em into the East River without pullin' a trigger." "Are there six thousand in it?" "About." "What do the infernal fools expect to live on?"
Seagrave and Juno busy with the tent, and Tommy sitting on the ground crying very lustily. It appeared that, while Mr Seagrave and Juno were employed, Tommy had crept away to where the musket was placed up on end against a cocoa-nut tree, and, after pulling it about some little while, had touched the trigger.
The moment was as favourable as any that I should be at all likely to get, for both were standing practically broadside-on to me; therefore, glancing quickly from one to the other, to determine the precise position of the vital spot for which I intended to aim, I levelled and sighted the weapon, pressed the trigger, and then, with a lightning movement of the barrel, shifted my aim and again fired.
She whirled like a flash, and as she raised her head high to locate me, I had time to wish that the Springfield hit a trifle harder blow. Also I had time to throw another cartridge in the barrel. The moment she saw me she dropped her head and charged. She was thoroughly angry and came very fast. I had just enough time to steady the gold bead on her chest and to pull trigger.
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