Fortune faced him, but twisted his chest sideways in order to present
less surface. Uri tottered about drunkenly, but waited, too, for the
moment's calm between the catspaws. The revolver was very heavy, and he
doubted, like Fortune, because of its weight. But he held it, arm
extended, above his head, and then let it slowly drop forward and down.
At the instant Fortune's left breast and the sight flashed into line with
his eye, he pulled the trigger. Fortune did not whirl, but gay San
Francisco dimmed and faded, and as the sun-bright snow turned black and
blacker, he breathed his last malediction on the Chance he had misplayed.