It was daylight when Rex Morgan awoke. He was conscious of a dull
headache, the strong odor of liniment, and of the fact that he was in a
bed. He shifted his eyes and looked around the living-room of the Lane
home, which was unfamiliar to him. Then he turned his head slightly and
looked toward a window, where Nan Lane was standing, looking through the
window.
He studied her profile for several moments. That she was a very pretty
girl, he decided. Rex knew very little about girls, but he thought she
was pretty. He felt of his head and found it heavily bandaged. Some of
the incidents of the previous day flashed through his mind, but they
seemed like a dream now.
The mad race down the crooked grade, the smashing of the stage wheel,
his ride through the dark on a bareback horse--all unreal to him now.
Nan turned from the window and looked at him.
‘Hello,’ he said weakly. She came over to the bed and smiled at him.
‘Oh, I’m glad you are awake,’ she said. ‘I was just a little afraid. Dad
said you had been hit pretty hard.’
‘Pretty hard,’ parroted Rex. ‘I don’t seem to remember much about it.’
He blinked painfully, but tried to smile.
‘We found you out by the porch,’ she said, indicating the front of the
house. ‘Dad heard a noise out there, and he found you near the bottom
step. He thought it was one of the 6X6 outfit. Two of them were here
earlier in the evening, and Dad almost had trouble with them.’
‘I--I remember something about it now,’ said Rex. ‘I was trying to find
my way to Mesa City. The stage broke down, and Mr. Smith sent me for
help. Perhaps I got on the wrong road.’
‘And then what happened to you?’
‘I really don’t know. There was a man at the corner of the house, and he
came up to me in the dark. He asked me what I wanted, but before I had a
chance to answer----’
‘He hit you?’
‘I--I think he did.’
Nan walked back to the window, a puzzled expression in her eyes. Was it
some of the 6X6, hiding at the corner of the house at night, watching
for her brother, she wondered?
‘You didn’t see what this man looked like, did you?’ she asked.
‘No. You see, it was quite dark.’
A lone horseman was coming down the road, and Nan watched him ride in at
the ranch. It was Lem Sheeley, the fat sheriff. She stepped out on the
porch and met him, leaving the door partly open. Rex heard her call him
by name, and heard him ask her if she had seen any strangers around.
‘Bunty Smith had a passenger yesterday,’ explained Lem. ‘The stage
busted down at this end of the Coyote grades and Bunty sent this
stranger to Mesa City after help. But he never got to town, and Bunty
spent the night out there, waitin’ for him to come back. Now, we can’t
find the stranger nor Bunty’s horse.’
‘I guess I’ve got the man you are looking for, Mr. Sheeley,’ said Nan.
‘Come in and talk to him about it.’
The sheriff followed Nan into the house, where Rex had propped himself
up in bed. The sheriff studied Rex quizzically for several moments.
Then--
‘You look as though you’d bumped into somethin’.’
‘I guess I did.’
‘Mind tellin’ me what happened?’
Rex told him all he knew about it, and the sheriff questioned him
closely. And then Nan told him about her father finding the two 6X6
cowboys fighting near the stable.
‘This morning we found two six-shooters and a bottle of whiskey near the
stable,’ she added. ‘One gun had been fired once.’
‘Funny business,’ mused the sheriff.
‘Nothing funny about it,’ retorted Nan. ‘They’re trying to find Walter.
I believe that these two men were watching for him to come back, and
accidentally came together, both thinking the other to be my brother.
And one of the outfit stayed here, still watching, and when this man
came, he knocked him down. That’s the only explanation I can see.’
‘Looks thataway,’ agreed Lem. ‘They’re a hard outfit.’
He turned to Rex. ‘What’s yore name?’
‘Rex Morgan.’
‘Yea-a-ah?’ Lem rubbed his chin wonderingly. ‘Morgan, eh? Any relation
to the Morgans around here?’
‘I don’t suppose so.’
‘No-o-o-o? Huh!’ Lem hunched his shoulders, leaned his elbows on his
knees and considered Rex closely.
‘You used to be a sailor, didn’t yuh?’
‘No.’
‘Uh-huh. Bunty thought yuh did.’
‘I don’t think I mentioned such a thing to him.’
‘Mebbe not. Bunty prob’ly had a few drinks. He said yuh told him about
stoppin’ a runaway team by throwin’ out the anchor.’
‘And I did,’ smiled Rex.
‘Shore,’ agreed Lem heartily. ‘Lotsa folks do. He tells me that yuh came
to Mesa City out of curiosity.’
‘That is true; I did. My mother died a short while ago. I guess I don’t
know much, except what I learned from books,’ he confessed wearily.
‘After she died I began to realize it more than ever. I have never
worked. As long as I can remember I have always studied.
‘It never occurred to me that my mother had an income of some kind. She
never mentioned the fact that I had any relatives. Why, I don’t even
know who my father was. That is the truth, as strange as it may seem.
But after she died, I found a letter or rather an envelope, inside of
which was a check for seventy-five dollars. It had been sent from Mesa
City. I couldn’t read the signature on the check, you see. There was
really nothing to keep me; so I came here, because I was curious.’
‘Well, I’ll be darned!’ exclaimed Lem. ‘Yore name’s Morgan, too, eh?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yuh don’t know what became of the horse, do yuh?’
‘Naturally not. I--I think I better get up. My head feels much better,
and I’m awfully hungry--’
‘I reckon yuh ain’t goin’ to die from a tunk on the head,’ grinned Lem.
He got to his feet and picked up his hat. ‘I reckon I’ll be foggin’
along, Miss Lane.’
Nan went out on the porch with Lem, where they talked together for
several minutes.
‘I dunno what to do about that 6X6 outfit,’ said Lem. ‘If they get yore
brother, they’ll hang him sure; so yuh better get word to him to lay
low. Accordin’ to my way of thinkin’, it was self-defense. If I get him,
I’ll lock him up, of course. Have to, because it’s my duty.
‘And you keep an eye on this young Morgan. Bunty Smith says he’s as
crazy as a loon. Of course, yuh can discount what Bunty says, because
Bunty was as sore as a boil. He says this young feller will have more
twists than a pretzel when he gets through with him. Well, I’ll be
goin’. If I see Pete Morgan, I’ll tell him to keep his punchers off this
place.’
‘Thank you very much, Mr. Sheeley.’
‘Oh, you’re welcome. Only I don’t like that Mister part. I answers to
“Lem” pretty well.’
‘All right, Lem.’
‘Gosh!’ Lem turned with a big grin. ‘What I’ll tell old Pete Morgan will
be a-plenty, ma’am.’
‘My friends call me Nan.’
‘That shore is a pretty name, Nan. You tell yore brother that the law’ll
give him a square deal. Only I wish he hadn’t took Ben’s gun and horse.
That looks bad. Well, I’ll see yuh later.’
As Nan turned to go into the house, Rex was standing in the doorway. He
had been fully dressed, except for his shoes and coat; so it had been a
simple matter to make himself presentable.
‘What did he mean by saying that I am crazy?’ he demanded.
Nan colored quickly, realizing that Rex had heard what the sheriff had
said.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said dubiously.
Rex watched the expression of her face for several moments.
‘I think you are very pretty,’ he said. ‘Yes, I think you are quite the
nicest-looking girl I have ever seen.’
‘I wonder if the sheriff wasn’t right?’ laughed Nan.
‘Do you think I’m crazy to say such things?’
‘In my opinion--yes.’
‘Well, I’m not. Outside of a very sore head, I’m all right. I heard what
the sheriff said about your brother, and it leads me to believe that it
was your brother who shot that cowboy they brought to Cañonville.’
‘They say he shot Ben Leach,’ said Nan. ‘I don’t believe he did.’
‘No one saw the shooting?’
‘Not a soul.’
Rex rubbed his bandaged head thoughtfully.
‘What will they do if they catch him?’
‘You heard what the sheriff said, didn’t you?’
‘He said they’d hang him. That hardly seems fair to me. This country is
rather elemental, I fear. The ticket agent told me that he preferred
civilization when I asked him if he had ever been at Mesa City--and I’m
beginning to realize what he meant.’
Nan smiled wearily and shook her head.
‘I’m afraid you won’t do--in this country, Mr. Morgan. It is too big for
a man who has been raised on books.’
‘Still, I like it,’ he said slowly. ‘Perhaps I won’t do, as you say. And
I have been raised on books. I am what Bunty Smith would probably call
an educated damn fool. Oh, I heard that expression a long time ago, but
I didn’t know until a few days ago just what it meant.’
Nan laughed softly. ‘Perhaps you might be able to forget some of the
things you learned out of books.’
‘I can try. A few more blows on the head, and I probably won’t have to
work hard to forget.’
‘Do you intend to stay in this country?’
‘I didn’t--at first,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But now I rather think I
may.’
‘But what will you do for a living?’
‘What is there to be done?’
‘You might work as a cowboy,’ said Nan, smiling.
‘Yes, I might. Did you know you have a dimple in each cheek when you
smile?’
‘I think we better change the bandage on your head,’ said Nan severely.
‘You lie down while I get the hot water and some clean cloth. I think
you’re feverish.’
The sheriff rode back to Mesa City, trying to puzzle out who this young
Morgan might be and just what he was doing in that country. He was
satisfied that some of the 6X6 outfit had been at the Lane ranch,
watching for Long Lane, and had probably hit Morgan over the head with a
gun, possibly mistaking him for some one who was liable to interfere
with them.
He found Bunty Smith, Spike Cahill, and Bert Roddy in the Oasis saloon.
‘I got my horse,’ said Bunty. ‘Spike and Bert brought him in this
mornin’, Lem.’
‘Where did you boys find him?’ asked Lem.
‘Out at the ranch. Probably dumped that young feller off and came home.
Yuh see, that horse was raised on the 6X6.’
Lem nodded with understanding.
‘But where’s the young feller?’ wondered Bunty.
At this moment Dave Morgan and Cal Dickenson came in, but Lem Sheeley
paid no attention to them. As soon as the greeting was over, Lem came
right to the point.
‘As far as that young feller is concerned,’ he said slowly, ‘he’s out at
the Lane place, nursin’ a busted head. I don’t reckon I’ve got to tell
you and Bert that, Spike.’
Spike looked at him blankly and then at Bert.
‘Yuh see, I happen to know that old man Lane found you two jaspers
fightin’ at his place last night. I dunno why yuh fought each other, and
it’s none of my business; but a little later this--or it might have been
before yore fight, as far as I know--this young feller, who says his
name’s Morgan, showed up there and got belted over the head.’
‘Honest to God, we don’t know nothin’ about him,’ declared Spike
solemnly.
‘Of course not,’ smiled Lem. ‘I didn’t reckon yuh would. But that’s what
happened.’
Spike rubbed his chin and looked at Bert.
‘What do yuh know about that, Bert?’
‘I think he’s crazy,’ replied Bert.
‘I know damn well he is!’ blurted Bunty. ‘Why, some of the things he
told me on the way from Cañonville.’
‘I’m talkin’ about Lem Sheeley,’ interrupted Bert.
‘Oh! Well, I’d like to know how that kid got over to Lane’s place. I
told him to stay on the road, the damn fool.’
‘But you didn’t say which road,’ laughed Spike.
‘I suppose not. Gee, I shore wanted to get my hands on him, makin’ me
spend the night out there, without even a blanket. I’ll buy a drink.’
‘Mebby this young Morgan is one of yore long-lost relatives, Dave,’
suggested Spike.
Dave Morgan laughed, as he poured out a drink.
‘Might be, Spike. Still, I suppose there’s a lot of Morgans scattered
over the face of the earth. Well, here’s happy days, boys.’
‘Where’s Pete?’ he asked Spike, after they had finished their drink.
‘I dunno. He must have pulled out early this mornin’. Didn’t say
anythin’ about goin’. Fact of the matter is, he didn’t wait for
breakfast. When Briggs got breakfast ready, we found that the old man
was gone. His horse and saddle were missin’; so we decided he left
early. We thought we’d find him here in town. Did you just come from the
Lane place, Lem?’
‘Yeah,’ nodded the sheriff.
‘Didn’t see anythin’ of Pete Morgan?’
‘Nope. Did he intend goin’ over there?’
‘You heard about Pete and old man Lane havin’ a fight yesterday, didn’t
yuh, Lem?’
Lem hadn’t. He listened to the details according to Dave Morgan, who had
seen it all.
‘But that wouldn’t send Peter Morgan over to Lane’s place early this
mornin’, would it?’ queried Lem. ‘Seems to me that he’d keep away. I
understand that Lane has homesteaded that ranch.’
‘Well, he drew a deadline on the 6X6,’ laughed Dave. ‘If Joe Cave hadn’t
acted real quick, Lane would have shot Pete.’
‘I suppose,’ said Spike thoughtfully, ‘it wouldn’t do me and Bert a damn
bit of good to deny that we hit this young Morgan, would it, Lem?’
‘I dunno,’ smiled the sheriff. ‘It might, if you’d tell me why you and
Bert were fightin’ each other out there.’
‘That was a mistake,’ said Bert quickly. ‘It was dark, and we didn’t
recognize each other, Lem.’
But further than that neither of them was willing to commit himself.
‘Found any trace of Long Lane?’ asked Dave Morgan.
‘Not any,’ said the sheriff.
‘Lookin’ for any?’ asked Spike sarcastically.
‘That’s my business, Spike. And I don’t need any bushwhackin’ help from
the 6X6. You fellers better keep away from Lane’s place. Accordin’ to
law he owns that ranch, and he’s given yuh plenty of warnin’.’
Spike subsided. He knew Lem Sheeley to be a two-fisted fighter and a
fast man with a gun; so there would be little satisfaction gained in
starting trouble with him.
‘You evidently don’t consider Long Lane a murderer, do yuh, Lem?’ asked
Dave Morgan.
‘Why should I? Ben Leach followed him, didn’t he? He didn’t have any
idea of kissin’ Lane when they met, did he? No, I don’t consider it
murder, Dave.’
‘But Lane took his gun and horse. Yuh might at least arrest him for
stealin’ the horse,’ said Spike.
‘Do you _know_ he took the horse?’
‘Well, the horse is gone, ain’t it?’
‘Does that prove Lane took it?’
‘Oh, hell!’ snorted Spike. ‘You talk in circles and ask questions all
the time. C’mon, Bert.’
Bert was willing to leave, and a few minutes later Dave Morgan and Cal
Dickenson left the saloon.
In the meantime Nan Lane had put a fresh bandage on Rex Morgan’s head,
and he sprawled back in a rocker, watching her working around the room.
‘Where is your father?’ he asked suddenly.
Nan shook her head. ‘Out in the hills somewhere.’
‘With your brother?’
‘I can’t answer that question.’
‘Have you a sweetheart?’
Nan turned quickly. He was not joking. His eyes were deadly serious.
‘Of all things!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re feverish again.’
‘Nothing of the kind. Please answer the question.’
‘Nothing of the kind,’ she mimicked him. ‘Why did you ask such a foolish
question?’
‘Most girls do have sweethearts, do they not?’
‘I really don’t know--possibly.’
She laughed and listened intently. From down at the stable came the
cackle of a hen, announcing to the world that she had produced an egg.
Following this came the hoarse crow of a rooster. Nan laughed and turned
to Rex.
‘Cut, cut, cut goes the little brown hen
She cut, cut, cuts a warning,
Then the rooster crows and everybody knows
We’ll have eggs for breakfast in the morning.’
‘Is that what it means?’ laughed Rex.
‘Didn’t you ever hear that before? That was the first poem I ever
learned. We have only a dozen hens, and only six are laying; so I better
get that egg before a coyote or a bob-cat finds it.’
She went out through the kitchen door, and Rex heard her going toward
the stable. She had not invited him to go with her, but he decided to go
anyway. His head was a bit light, he found, and his knees were weak, but
otherwise he felt all right.
Nan went down to the stable, searching for the nest, but was unable to
find it. The chickens were in the willows beyond the corral; so she
crawled through the corral fence. The corrals of the Lane ranch
surrounded one side and the rear of the stable, being almost an L in
shape, with a cross-fence separating it into two units.
Nan entered the smaller corral and walked back to the cross-fence near
the corner of the stable, intending to go through the gate, but as she
glanced through the fence she stopped short.
On the ground, at the corner of the stable, she could see part of a
shoulder and the left arm of a man. The fingers were splayed out in the
dirt; the sleeve drawn back sharply showed a hairy wrist.
Nan flung the gate open and stepped to the corner of the stable, her
eyes filled with horror. The man was lying close against the rear of the
stable, as though he had been leaning against the wall, and had hardly
moved after falling. His right arm was twisted back, almost under his
right leg, and Nan could see the butt of a six-shooter.
Forgetting her fear for a moment, she stepped forward, took hold of his
shoulder and gave a slight pull. The body turned over easily and she
looked down into the contorted features of Peter Morgan.
With a stifled scream she stepped back, staring down at the corpse,
looking dazedly at the earthly remains of the man who had been her
father’s enemy.
‘What do you suppose happened to him?’ asked a voice, and she jerked
around quickly to face Rex Morgan, who had stepped through the gate and
was looking at the body.
‘My God!’ she whispered. ‘That is Peter Morgan!’
‘Was Peter Morgan,’ corrected Rex unemotionally. ‘Dead, isn’t he? I
never saw a dead man before. He must have been struck over the head,
too. Queer, isn’t it?’
‘Queer?’ Nan struggled to keep her voice calm. If she ever needed
self-possession she needed it now.
‘Queer about him getting hit on the head, I mean. It seems to be sort of
a habit around here.’
Nan leaned against the wall of the stable, trying to think just what to
do.
‘Who do you suppose killed him?’ queried Rex. It was rather strange that
he wasn’t at all excited.
‘Oh, don’t you see what it will mean?’ whispered Nan. ‘This is Peter
Morgan. He hated my father, and my father has threatened to kill any of
his outfit that came here.’
‘Your father threatened him? Do you suppose he killed him?’
‘I--I don’t know. No! Why, if he killed him, he wouldn’t leave the body
there--here. But they won’t believe it. My father left here early this
morning. Why--why he and Morgan had a fight in Mesa City yesterday. This
is terrible!’
‘I begin to understand,’ said Rex slowly. ‘If they find the body here,
they will say your father killed him.’
‘Yes, yes! Oh, what can I do?’
‘Well, the first thing to do is to get rid of the body, I suppose. Of
course the man is dead, and it won’t make a particle of difference to
him. I think we----’
Nan had stepped to the gate and was looking down toward the willow-lined
creek, where a saddled horse stood, barely visible to them. It was a
tall roan; the riding horse of Peter Morgan.
‘That was his horse,’ she told Rex. ‘He must have tied it down there,
and then----’
‘Came looking for trouble.’
‘Oh, I suppose,’ wearily. ‘But what can we do, Rex?’
It was the first time she had called him Rex.
‘I was just wondering what would be the proper thing to do,’ he replied.
‘You see, I haven’t many ideas on the subject. My idea of it would be to
get the body away from here and let them find it elsewhere. That would,
at least, turn the finger of direct suspicion from your father; and that
seems to be the primary idea, doesn’t it?’
Nan nodded quickly. ‘But how can we, Rex? Suppose some one saw us?’
‘I don’t know anything about what they would do, Nan. I just had an
idea. I--you wait here a minute.’
He crossed the corral, climbed through the fence and came back shortly,
leading the saddled horse.
‘We would have to dispose of the horse, too,’ he said, eyeing the body.
‘Suppose you get some rope.’
‘Do you mean to--to tie the body on the horse?’
‘Something like that, I think it can be done.’ Nan secured a length of
spot-cord lariat and came back to him.
‘I was just thinking again,’ smiled Rex. ‘The body is very stiff, and I
wonder if--no, I guess we better just drape him across the saddle. Do
you feel capable of helping me lift him up, Nan?’
She shut her eyes tightly, but nodded in the affirmative. It was a tough
job. Rex was none too strong, and Nan’s natural aversion to touching the
body did not add any material strength to her arms.
But they finally managed to place the body across the saddle, face down,
and together they roped it tightly. Rex knew nothing about knots; so he
let Nan tie off the ropes. Luckily it was a gentle horse.
‘Now, that is done,’ said Rex thankfully.
‘But what next?’ asked Nan anxiously, scanning the hills. She was
mortally afraid some one would come before the coast was clear.
‘Would this horse go home?’ asked Rex.
‘It might. Oh, that would----’
‘Let’s try it, Nan.’
Slowly he led the horse through the rear gate. They had tied the reins
to the saddle-horn. Pointing the animal away from the ranch, he gave it
a slap with his open palm, and the animal went trotting away, heading
back toward the 6X6.
For a long time they stood there together, watching the hills, and once
they saw the animal with its grisly burden, a mile away, still going.
Nan’s face was very white as she turned to Rex and held out her hand.
‘Thank you, Rex,’ she said simply.
‘You are welcome, Nan. It was nothing.’
‘But if it was known, we would both go to jail for a long time.’
Rex shuddered slightly. ‘Is that a fact, Nan?’
‘Yes--we must never tell. The law would blame us equally with the one
who killed him.’
‘Well, that is all right. I--I mean--it does matter. You see, I don’t
want anything to happen to you. I never did touch a dead man before, and
my head hurts now, but it is all right. You see, I--I----’
His hands slipped off the fence and he fell in a heap at her feet.
Quickly she knelt in the dust of the corral and took his head in her
lap. His face was bloodless. She knew she could not carry him to the
house. For a moment she hesitated on just what to do, but finally
lowered his head to the ground and got quickly to her feet, intending to
go to the house after some water, but as she turned toward the gate she
saw the sheriff riding up to the corral. It was evident he had seen her,
and was coming there instead of to the house.
He rode up along the fence, swinging his hat in his hand, a smile on his
face.
‘Howdy, Miss Lane,’ he said pleasantly, and then saw Rex on the ground.
He dismounted quickly and came over to the fence.
‘He--he fainted,’ faltered Nan, fearful that the sheriff had seen the
horse and its burden leave the corral.
‘Shore looks white, ma’am.’
‘I was just going after some water.’
‘I’ll get yuh some,’ he said quickly. He walked to the open gate, but
stopped and picked up Peter Morgan’s revolver.
Nan’s heart sank when she saw it. Would he recognize the gun, she
wondered? But he merely gave it a sharp glance and went on to the house,
carrying it in his hand.
But she noticed when he came back that the gun was not in evidence, nor
did he mention finding it. He poured some of the water over Rex’s head,
and the shock of the cold water brought him back to consciousness. He
sat up, blinking foolishly.
‘This is the sheriff,’ said Nan. ‘You’ve met him before.’
‘Kinda went down and out, didn’t yuh?’ smiled the sheriff.
Rex nodded quickly. ‘Foolish of me to faint. I guess my head isn’t very
good yet.’
He looked searchingly at Nan. ‘Did you find them?’ he asked.
‘Find what?’ asked the sheriff, before Nan could reply.
‘The eggs,’ said Rex. ‘The hen called, you know; and we went hunting the
egg. Queer, isn’t it? And I fainted.’
The sheriff smiled thinly. He had seen the look which passed between
them.
‘Can yuh navigate all right?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I am all right now.’
‘I just dropped in to tell you that the horse you rode last night was
picked up at the 6X6 ranch and brought back to Mesa City. The horse came
from there, yuh see; so that would be where he’d go.’
‘Well, I am glad they got it back, and thank you for telling me.’
‘Oh, you’re welcome.’
He climbed the fence and mounted his horse.
‘I’ll see yuh later,’ he said.
‘Come any time, Lem,’ called Nan.
‘Thank yuh, Nan--I shore will.’
‘Whew!’ exclaimed Rex weakly. ‘That was a close call. You don’t think he
saw what we did, do you?’
‘I’m sure he didn’t. But somehow I don’t feel that he believed about the
eggs.’
‘Well, we are not in jail,’ grinned Rex.
They walked back to the front of the house, and Rex stood there quite a
while, thinking over the events of the night before. He distinctly
remembered that there had been a big gate. Where was that gate now, he
wondered? There was no big gate at the Lane ranch. In fact, there were
no fences around the place, except the corral, and he was very sure he
did not come through the corral. Finally he went over to the house and
sat down on the porch, trying to reconstruct the locale, as well as he
could, of the place where he had been knocked out.
And while Rex Morgan pondered over these things, Lem Sheeley rode back
to Cañonville, also thinking deeply. From inside his shirt-bosom he
removed a heavy Colt revolver and examined it closely.
It was of forty-five caliber, with white bone handles, and on one handle
had been carved the initials ‘P. M.’
‘“P. M.,”’ he said to himself. ‘That’s Peter Morgan’s gun; I remember
them bone handles. But what was Peter Morgan’s gun doin’ in the Lane
corral? I’ll betcha he was over there tryin’ to raise a little hell with
Lane and lost the gun. Serves him right, and I’ll shore tell him so when
I give him the gun.’