No other man moved. Herman Lunkenheimer, released by Kid Twist, sank
down on the deck. Nor did I shoot again. Kid Twist stood again by
the side of Bert Rhine and Guido Bombini fawned near.
Bert Rhine actually visibly smiled.
"Any more of you guys want to promenade aft?" he queried in velvet
tones.
"Two minutes up," Mr. Pike declared.
"An' what are you goin' to do about it, Grandpa?" Bert Rhine sneered.
In a flash the big automatic was out of the mate's pocket and he was
shooting as fast as he could pull trigger, while all hands fled to
shelter. But, as he had long since told me, he was no shot and could
effectively use the weapon only at close range--muzzle to stomach
preferably.
As we stared at the main deck, deserted save for the dead cowboy on
his back and for the Faun who still sat on the hatch and coughed, an
eruption of men occurred over the for'ard edge of the 'midship-house.
"Shoot!" Margaret cried at my back.
"Don't!" Mr. Pike roared at me.
The rifle was at my shoulder when I desisted.
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