"We went over to the group of silver spruce near the house. I gave them
the directions. They came and stood together, back to back, with their
revolvers not drawn. They began to walk away in opposite directions at my
command.

"When I called 'Turn,' they wheeled. My gun was ready to shoot down the
first man guilty of foul play--but there was no attempt to turn too soon,
before the signal. They whirled, snatching out their guns--and the
revolver of the sheriff hung in his clothes!"

A groan from the little crowd.

"Although, upon my word," said Gainor, "I do not think that the sheriff
could have possibly brought out his gun as swiftly as Terence Hollis did.
His whirl was like the spin of a top, or the snap of a whiplash, and as
he snapped about, the revolver was in his hand, not raised to draw a
bead, but at his hip. The sheriff set his teeth--but Terry did not fire!"

A bewildered murmur from the crowd.

"No, my friends," cried Gainor, his voice quivering, "he did not fire. He
dropped the muzzle of his gun--and waited. By heaven, my heart went out
to him. It was magnificent."

The thin, strong hand of Elizabeth closed on the arm of Vance. "That was
a Colby who did that!" she whispered.

"The sheriff gritted his teeth," went on Gainor, "and tore out his gun.
All this pause had been such a space as is needed for an eyelash to