Something of all this went through the mind of Bard as he lay watching
the limp noose of the cowboy's lariat, and then he nodded smiling.
"I suppose that seems an odd habit to some men, but I sympathize with
it. I have it myself, in fact. And whenever I'm out in the wilds and
carry a gun I like to have it under my head when I sleep. That's even
queerer than your fancy, isn't it?"
And he slipped his revolver under the blankets at the head of his bunk.
CHAPTER XIX
THE CANDLE
"Yes," said Nash, "that's a queer stunt, because when you're lyin' like
that with your head right over the gun and the blankets in between, it'd
take you a couple of seconds to get it out."
"Not when you're used to it. You'd be surprised to see how quickly a man
can get the gun out from under."
"That so?"
"Yes, and shooting while you're lying on your back is pretty easy, too,
when you've had practice."
"Sure, with a rifle, but not with a revolver."
"Well, do you see that bit of paper in the corner there up on the
rafter?"
"Yes."
The hand of Bard whipped under his head, there was a gleam and whirl of
steel, an explosion, and the bit of paper came fluttering slowly down
from the rafter, like a wounded bird struggling to keep upon the air.
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