striking him both in bulging chest and flushed face, throwing him backward to stagger and trip and fall prone, heavily. And, in that dizzy moment before he could rise, Steele was upon him, Steele's hands, like Turk's, commanding peace.
"We're not doing this just for fun, are we?" panted Steele, though not yet had all trace of good humour gone from his face. "Lie still, or I'll just have to put you out with one smash on the jaw."
"Damn it," grunted Tom Hardy. But with aching head, dizzy brain and a view of what stood in Steele's eyes, he lay still.
"Which," came Turk Wilson's voice thoughtfully, "is puttin' over the firs' trick on the Young Queen! Huh, Steele? Say, Pete, will you lay still long enough so's I can bite off a chaw tobacca?"
"What do you mean by that, Turk?" demanded Steele sharply. For, given until now little enough time for reflection, he had not so much as thought of Beatrice Corliss.
"Sure," said Turk. "Whoa, Pete! Ain't you got no sense a-tall? Have I got to twis' your tail any more to make you rec'lec' who's ridin' you? You see," and it became evident that he was again addressing his employer, "Tom Hardy, what you're settin' on his wish bone, an' Pete Olsen what I'm breakin* in, an' ol' Johnnie Thorp, is all three Little Giant men, her men."
