He quite forgot to improve the opportunity by making mental note of all the little, convincing details, as was his wont.
Presently he awoke to the realization of certain words spoken insistently close beside him.

He turned his eyes and saw that the girl, her eyes staring straight before her, her slim, brown hands uplifted, was yet commanding him imperiously, her voice holding to that murmuring monotone more discreet than a whisper.
"The gun--drop down--and get it.

He can't see to shoot for the seat in front.

Get the gun.

Get the gun!" was what she was saying.
Thurston looked at her helplessly, imploringly.