Not while he lived would Cameron forget the scene that followed.
With an air of lazy nonchalance the youngster strode quietly up to
the desperado flourishing his gun and asked in a tone that indicated
curiosity more than anything else, "What are you doing with that thing?"
"I'll show yeh!" roared the man in his face, continuing to pour forth a
torrent of oaths.
"Put it down there!" said the youngster in a smooth and silky voice,
pointing to a table near by. "You don't need that in this country."
The man paused in his demonstration and for a moment or two stood in
amazed silence. The audacity of the youngster appeared to paralyse his
powers of speech and action.
"Put it down there, my man. Do you hear?" The voice was still smooth,
but through the silky tones there ran a fibre of steel. Still the
desperado stood gazing at him. "Quick, do you hear?" There was a
sudden sharp ring of imperious, of overwhelming authority, and, to the
amazement of the crowd of men who stood breathless and silent about,
there followed one of those phenomena which experts in psychology
delight to explain, but which no man can understand. Without a word the
gambler slowly laid upon the table his gun, upon whose handle were many
notches, the tally of human lives it had accounted for in the hands of
this same desperado.
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