He grew
excited. He flushed. There came a thrill and a ring and a deepening of
the voice. For the master was indeed talking of the secrets of
his craft.
A thousand men of the mountains and the cattle ranges, men who, for
personal pride or for physical need, studied accuracy and speed in
gunplay, would have paid untold prices to learn these secrets from the
lips of the little man. To Bull Hunter the mysteries were revealed for
nothing, freely, and drilled and drummed into him through the weeks of
his convalescence; and still the lessons continued now that he was
hale and hearty once more--as the clean-swept platters from which he
ate three times a day gave evidence.
"I've practiced, you admit," said Bull in his slow voice, as Pete
Reeve came to a pause. "But I haven't got your way with a gun, Pete.
You've got a genius for it. I don't blame you for laughing at me when
I try to get out my gun fast. I can shoot straight. That's because I
haven't any nerves, as you say, but I'll never be able to get out a
gun as fast as a thought--the way you do.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153