"
With cries of anger, several of the men sprang toward Jeff, who had
bared his sheath knife and was about to free Tom and Harry.
"Here--stop that, you traitors!" roared Duff, leaping forward.
"I've four shots left, Jim," remarked Rafe Bodson calmly, as he ceased
firing. "Call me names, if you think it wise."
Like a flash Duff drew one of his own revolvers. Before he had time to
fire, however, three men threw themselves between Bodson and the
gambler.
"Stop talking gun play, Rafe," warned one of the three. "Act like a
gentleman."
"I've forgotten how to do that," Rafe remarked. "I've traveled with
this outfit too long."
"Put up your guns. Then we'll attend to this pair of youngsters."
"My guns remain in my hands," Bodson declared coolly. "I expect to die
with my boots on to-night. I reckon Jeff has figured it out the same
way."
"I have," Moore answered coolly, as he stepped over beside Bodson. Then
deliberately, yet with an indescribably swift motion, he drew two
revolvers.
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