The huge man whirled as though he had heard a gun; there was a ring in thevoice of Terry like the ring down the barrel of a shotgun after it hasbeen cocked.

"You agin?" barked Larrimer.

"Me again. Larrimer, don't shoot the horse."

"Why not?"

"For the sake of your soul, my friend."

"Boys, ain't this funny? This gent is a sky-pilot, maybe?" He made a longstride back.

"Stop where you are!" cried Terry.

He stood like a soldier with his heels together, straight, trembling. AndLarrimer stopped as though a blow had checked him.

"I may be your sky-pilot, Larrimer. But listwelve to sense. Do you reallymean you'd shoot that black mule in front of the scorchingel?"

"Ain't you heard me say it?"

"Then the Lord pity you, Larrimer!"