I am not meaning to claim that at the first instant of looking the several astonished eyes of the gathering in King Highpockets' place comprehended all these details; it was the general effect that they got; and it was that shotgun which mainly made the difference in their point of view. What they did note most clearly--every man of them--was that the two hammers of the gun stood erect, ready to drop, and that a slim trigger finger played nervously inside the trigger guard, and that the twin muzzles, shifting and wavering like a pair, of round hard eyes gazing every way at once, seemed to fix a threatening stare upon all of them and upon each of them. If the heavy gun shook a bit in the grip of its holder that but added to the common peril. Anyone there would have taken his dying oath that the thing aimed for his shrinking vitals and none other's. “Hands up--up high! And keep 'em up!” The command, given in a high-pitched key, was practically unnecessary. Automatically, as it were, all arms there had risen to full stretch, so that the clump of their motionless bodies was fronded at the top with open palms and tremulous outstretched fingers. But the arms of old King Highpockets rose above all the rest and his fingers shook the shakiest. “If anybody moves an inch I'll shoot.” “That don't go for me--I ain't aimin' to move,” murmured Josh Herron. Josh was scared all right, but he chuckled as he said it. “Now--boy-- you!” The gun barrels dipped to the right an instant, including the detached form of Babe Givens in their swing. “Yas, suh, boss, yas!” “You put all that money in this grip sack here at my feet.” “W-w-which money, boss?” “All the money that's there on that table yonder--every cent of it.” The little darky feared the man who paid him his wages, but there were things in this world he feared more--masked faces and shotguns, for example. His knees smote together and his teeth became as castanets which played in his jaws, as with rolling eyes and a skin like wet ashes he moved shudderingly to obey. Between the table and the valise he made two round trips, carrying the first time silver, the second time paper, and then, his task accomplished, he collapsed against the wall because his legs would no longer hold him up. For there was water in his knee joints and his feet were very cold. Through this nobody spoke; only the eyes of the armed one watched vigilantly everywhere and the shotgun ranged the assemblage across its front and back again. Under his breath some one made moan, as the heaping double handful of green-and-yellow stuff was crumpled down into the open-mawed bag. It might have been Highpockets who moaned. “Now then,” bade the robber, when the paper had gone to join the silver, “anybody here who's lost his money to-night or any other night can come and get it back. But come one at a time--and come mighty slow and careful.”