Taking in probable speed of hand and a thousand other details at a glance, Pete sensed the danger of these two and felt in his heart of hearts that he was more than master of either of them, considered alone; better than Buck Daniels by an almost safe margin of steadiness; better than Lee Haines by a flickering instant of speed.

Had either of them alone faced him, he would have taken his chance, perhaps, to kill or be killed, for the long trail and the escape had fanned that spark within him to a cold, hungry fire; but to attempt a play with both at the same time was death, and he knew it.

Seeing that the game was up, he laid his cards on the table with characteristic frankness.
"Gents," he said, "I reckon you've come clean with me.

You ain't my meat and I ain't goin' to clutter up your way.

Besides"-- even in the dull moonshine they caught the humorous glint of his eyes--"a friend is a friend, and I'll say I'm glad that you didn't step into the shady side of the law while Barry was gettin' away." No one could know what it cost Pete Glass to be genial at that instant, for this night he felt that he had just missed the great moment which he had yearned for since the day when he learned to love the kick of a six-shooter against the heel of his hand.