The--the trigger was just pulled without my wanting it to! Lord, what'll people think!" But Pete Reeve had flung his arms around the big man as far as they would go, and he hugged him in a hysteria of joy.

Then he leaped back, dancing, throwing up his hands.
"You done it!" he cried, his voice squeaking, hysterical.
"I made a fool of myself, all right," said Bull, bewildered by this exhibition of joy where he had expected anger.
"Fool nothing! Look at that knob!" The doorknob was a smashed wreck, driven into the thick wood of the door by the heavy slug of the revolver.

Footsteps were running up the stairs of the hotel.

Pete Reeve ran to the door and flung it open.
"It's all right, boys," he called.

"Cleaning a gun and it went off.