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“Proud?” he concluded a long soliloquy as if to the reflector of the lamp. “Proud?” he repeated, reflectively. “This yere Hank’s jest that proud he’s all swelled up like a poisoned pup. Ain’t everyone kin corall a man sleepin’ and git fifty thousand without turnin’ a hair.”

Black Hank distributed three men to do the business. There were no heroics. The execution of this man was necessary to him, not because he was particularly angry over the escape of the messenger–he expected to capture that individual in due time–but in order to preserve his authority over his men. He was in the act of moving back to give the shooters room, when he heard behind him the door open and shut.

He turned. Before the door stood a small consumptive-looking man in a light check suit. The tenderfoot carried two short-barrelled Colt’s revolvers, one of which he presented directly at Black Hank.

“‘Nds up!” he commanded, sharply.

Hank was directly covered, so he obeyed. The new-comer’s eye had a strangely restless quality. Of the other dozen inmates of the room, eleven were firmly convinced that the weapon and eye not directly levelled at their leader were personally concerned with themselves. The twelfth thought he saw his chance. To the bewildered onlookers there seemed to be a flash and a bang, instantaneous; then things were as before. One of the stranger’s weapons still pointed at Black Hank’s breast; the other at each of the rest. Only the twelfth man, he who had seen his chance, had collapsed forward to the floor. No one could assure himself positively that he had discerned the slightest motion on the part of the stranger.

“Now,” said the latter, sharply, “one at a time, gentlemen. Drop yore gun,” this last to Black Hank, “muzzle down. Drop it! Correct!”

One of the men in the back of the room stirred slightly on the ball of his foot.

“Steady, there!” warned the stranger. The man stiffened.

“Next gent,” went on the little man, subtly indicating another. The latter obeyed without hesitation. “Next. Now you. Now you in th’ corner.”

One after another the pistols clattered to the floor. Not for an instant could a single inmate of the apartment, armed or unarmed, flatter himself that his slightest motion was unobserved. They were like tigers on the crouch, ready to spring the moment the man’s guard lowered. It did not lower. The huddled figure on the floor reminded them of what might happen. They obeyed.

“Step back,” commanded the stranger next. In a moment he had them standing in a row against the wall, rigid, upright, their hands over their heads. Then for the first time the stranger moved from his position by the door.

“Call her,” he said to Billy, “th’ girl.”

Billy raised his voice. “Nell! Oh, Nell!”

In a moment she appeared in the doorway at the foot of the stairs, without hesitation or fear. When she perceived the state of affairs, she brightened almost mischievously.

“Would you jest as soon, ma’am, if it ain’t troubling you too much, jest nat’rally sort of untie Billy?” requested the stranger.

She did so. The hotel-keeper stretched his arms.

“Now, pick up th’ guns, please.”

The two set about it.

“Where’s that damn ol’ reprobate?” inquired Billy, truculently, looking about for Charley.

The patriarch had quietly slipped away.

“You kin drop them hands,” advised the stranger, lowering the muzzles of his weapons. The leader started to say something.

“You shut up!” said Billy, selecting his own weapons from the heap.

The stranger suddenly picked up one of the Colt’s single-action revolvers which lay on the floor, and, holding the trigger back against the guard, exploded the six charges by hitting the hammer smartly with the palm of his hand. In the thrusting motion of this discharge he evidently had design, for the first six wine-glasses on Billy’s bar were shivered. It was wonderful work, rattling fire, quicker than a self-cocker even. He selected another weapon. From a pile of tomato-cans he took one and tossed it into the air. Before it had fallen he had perforated it twice, and as it rolled along the floor he helped its progression by four more bullets which left streams of tomato-juice where they had hit. The room was full of smoke. The group watched, fascinated.