The Texas man, ready at last, took his place beside Pete and raised his gun till the butt of it was level with his ear, the barrel pointing up and back.

Johnson swung up his heavy gun in the same fashion.
"Ready ?" bawled Bill.

"All right! One--two--three--go!" Johnson's gun leaped forward, blazing; his left hand slapped back along the barrel, once, twice; pivoting, his gun turned to meet Bill, almost upon him, hands outstretched.

Bill recoiled; Pete stepped aside a pace--all this at once.

The Texan dropped his empty gun and turned.
"You win," said Pete gently.
Not understanding yet, triumph faded from the Texan's eyes at that gentle tone.