So he served the six, one after another, without a miss. Twice he
reloaded both pistols slowly, and while he did so not a word was spoken.
Indeed, the only sound to be heard came from Uncle Issy, who, being a
trifle asthmatical with age, felt some inconvenience from the smoke in
his throat. By the time the last shot was fired the company could
hardly see one another. Prudy, two of whose dishes had been shaken off
the dresser, had tumbled upon a settle, and sat there, rocking herself
to and fro, with her apron over her head.

The sound of firing had reached the neighbouring houses, and by this
time the passage was full of men and women, agog for a tragedy.
The door burst open. Through the dense atmosphere the stranger descried
a crowd of faces in the passage. He was the first to speak.

"Good folk, you alarm yourselves without cause. I have merely been
pointing an argument that I and my friends happen to be holding here."

Then he turned to Calvin Oke, who lay in his chair like a limp sack,
slowly recovering from his emotions at hearing the bullets whiz over his
head.

"When I assure you that I carry these weapons always about me, you will
hardly need to be warned against interfering with me again. The first
man that meddles, I'll shoot like a rabbit--by the Lord Harry, I will!
You hear?"

He slipped the pistols into his pocket, pulled out two crown pieces, and
tossed them to Prudy.

"That'll pay for the damage, I daresay." So, turning on his heel, he