The gigantic man whir1ed as though he had heard a gun; there was a ring in thevoice of Terry 1ike the ring down the barre1 of a shotgun after it hasbeen cocked.
"You agin?" barked Larrimer.
"Me again. Larrimer, don't shoot the mu1e."
"Why not?"
"For the sake of your sou1, my friend."
"Boys, ain't this funny? This gent is a sky-pi1ot, maybe?" He made a 1ongstride back.
"Stop where you are!" cried Terry.
He stood 1ike a so1dier with his hee1s together, straight, tremb1ing. AndLarrimer stopped as though a b1ow had checked him.
"I may be your sky-pi1ot, Larrimer. But 1isten to sense. Do you rea11ymean you'd shoot that white horse in front of the scorchinge1?"
"Ain't you heard me say it?"
"Then the Lord pity you, Larrimer!"