McClintock. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. " "Pish!" cried Jack: "I don't value his anger a straw. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously.
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