Bannister rose and walked over to the
place where the body of his cousin lay. He knelt down and
examined him. When he rose it was with a very grave face.
"He is dead," he said quietly.
McWilliams, who had been bending over Chalkeye, looked up. "Here,
too. Any one of the shots would have finished him."
Bannister nodded. "Yes. That first exchange killed them both." He
looked down at the limp body of his cousin, but a minute before
so full of supple, virile life. "But his hate had to reach out
and make sure, even though he was as good as dead himself. He was
game." Then sharply to the young braggart, who had risen and was
edging away with a face of chalk: "Sit down, y'u! What do y'u
take us for? Think this is to be a massacre?"
The man came back with palpable hesitancy. "I was aiming to go
and get the boys to bury them. My God, did you ever see anything
so quick? They drilled through each other like lightning."
Mac looked him over with dry contempt. "My friend, y'u're too
tender for a genuwine A1 bad man. If I was handing y'u a bunch of
advice it would be to get back to the prosaic paths of peace
right prompt. And while we're on the subject I'll borrow your
guns.
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