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Updated: June 13, 2025
But Deveny knew better; he knew that Laskar was dead on his feet before the muzzle of his weapon had cleared the holster, and that the shot he had fired had been the result of involuntary muscular action; that he had pulled the trigger after Harlan's bullet struck him, and while his gun had been loosening in his hand.
But Harlan's hand had come to a poise, just above the stock of his weapon a pause so infinitesimal that it was merely a suggestion of a pause. It was enough, however, to throw Laskar off his mental balance, and as he drew his weapon he glanced at Harlan's holster. A dozen men who watched swore afterward that Laskar drew his gun first; that it was in his hand when Harlan's bullet struck him.
A Chinese tried to knife him, but the man died, as if struck by a flying bit of tackle. Bedient recaptured the Captain, who during the brief struggle had dumbly turned back to the wheel. It was all done in thirty seconds; Carreras was chucked into the stern-seat of the little boat, where he belonged. The body of a Laskar cushioned the craft from being broken against the rudder.
Half an hour later Laskar, holding his chest, where Purgatory had kicked him, was sitting at the table in the rear room of the First Chance, cursing with a fluency that he had not yielded to in many years. "Dolver's wiped out!" he gasped hoarsely; "plugged so quick he didn't know he was hit. A center shot plumb in the heart; his own gun goin' off while he was fallin'. I looked him over after.
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