Marquis's Memory now live

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taking a break

 I've run out of completed material and I have not been writing well through the muggy weather. I hope to have 'Copper's Cruise' soon, and I've been reminded that I should write 'Philippa's Phaeton' to companion 'Felicity's Fashions.'  

falcon and wolf 22 cliffie bonus.

 

 

Chapter 22

 

“I have to get to the Abbott boy,” said Freddy. “You idiot, Croaker, he saw you and Berlin!”

“We c’n silence him, boss,” said Croaker Pennyman.

“That shit, Nelson, told me to ignore any rumours I heard about the Abbott lot,” said Freddy. “I hadn’t heard any rumours, but in his anxiety to preserve the brat, he gave away where he is hiding.”

“It’ll be a cinch,” said Pennyman.

“We need the Black Falcon tied down first, so he can’t go to the kid,” said Freddy. “Jimmie, Scarface, Dougie, you keep him occupied at the front; the rest of you, charge the back and take him and that Injun of his down.”

“It’ll be a good laugh, boss,” volunteered Scarface Longfellow. “Can we help cut him up a bit?”

“Probably,” said Freddy. “You open up on the place at one in the morning; the rest of you, ten minutes later, and at the same time, Croaker and I will silence the brat.”

 

Luke was unsure what the timing would be, but planned to sleep as much as possible, taking turns with Wolf. He gave Freddy the respect of assuming he would organise a two-pronged attack on Luke himself as a decoy from his attempts on Tommy, who had stayed out of sight. He wondered if Freddy would take the bait, thinking it was a bit thin to suppose that any responsible adult would let Tommy sleep alone in the cellar rather than take him into his own house, but in this he did overestimate Freddy’s assumption that Luke was a responsible adult. Indeed, Freddy assumed that a bounty hunter would make the child sleep out of the way and hidden in a cellar rather than have a child anywhere near him. Freddy would never have wanted to have a child anywhere near him, after all, and the concept that the boy might be frightened, alone and in a cellar, and where his parents had died would not have swayed him in the least; children were to be seen and not heard. He would never have understood the concept of Luke telling the scared little boy stories to help him go to sleep, especially not mundane stories about childhood mischief. Freddy’s ideas of childhood mischief, however, differed wildly from Luke’s, and involved stealing for his drunken father, and discovering at the age of fifteen or so, being able to beat up almost any grown man, that others his own age would follow him, and they could demand money with menaces. Freddy enjoyed menacing people. He had learned a veneer of urbanity during his first jail stretch, when an old lag taught him, the hard way, that a smooth voice and quiet manner could be more frightening than just shouting at people. It had not, however, removed all his prejudices, but he was prepared to recall the lesson and give some respect to The Black Falcon even if he did look like an Easterner. Freddy’s way of respecting someone was to throw every one of his men against him. He half considered giving his men instructions to beat the two men half to death and then offer them a option of joining him, with the implied threat of ‘or die,’ but something told him that this suave youth would not join him. And any defiance might lose him face in front of his men.

 

oOoOo

 

Tommy had got up, because he woke at midnight, and his nerves were too stretched to let him sleep.  He crept into the front window, and watched. Several dogs slunk around the street.

Tommy shivered. He knew the dogs were there by Luke’s design, but the furtive, feral shapes slipping between shadows made him nervous. Dogs were only one step from wolves.

Tommy almost dozed off again at his watch point, waking when Luke came in.

“Couldn’t sleep?” said Luke.

Tommy shook his head, realised that it was dark and he could not be seen.

“No, I woke up and I felt sick.”

“It’s normal before a big battle,” said Luke. “You know what to do; will you be on watch? You can’t doze any longer.”

“I won’t. I’m awake,” said Tommy.

“Good man,” said Luke. He glided downstairs.

Tommy felt as if he was walking on air. Luke trusted him to do a man’s job.

 

 

Tommy strained to look into the darkness. Oddly, at first, it seemed to get darker the more he peered, with spots before his eyes, but in due course, his sight cleared, and the darkness seemed to become less intense. And then he saw the men move into position. One from the right; another from the left, and a second following him.

Tommy went to the head of the stairs, and knocked three times on the wall.

Two double knocks answered him, that his message had been received. Tommy went back to his spy-hole, rather than the window. The spy hole had leather tacked all around it, to catch any splinters,, if the false-front boards were hit. It would not stop rifle fire; but it might stop a pistol bullet, or at least slow it so that the buckskins Tommy wore might prevent him being badly wounded. It was a precaution worth taking, if not much of a defence in an out-and-out war.

   Tommy waited, half-way between excitement and terror. They had come before, and Luke and Wolf had seen them off. And those two were quite serene. And trusting him to fire the special cartridges.

There was the first shot; the first muzzle-flash.  Tommy fired back, in its general direction. He fired the second barrel of the shotgun, and fired the second barrel as the second gunman fired. Then he reloaded, memorising the whereabouts of the third gunman. That was his task done, and he ran down the stairs. The door to the shop, he noticed, had been barricaded. A dresser of very solid oak stood over the door, and a big chest in front of that.

“There’s a bed for you on the sofa,” said Luke, absently. “You might as well lie down and rest, though you’ll get precious little sleep, I fear. It’s going to be noisy.”

“I don’t mind,” said Tommy, taking off the buckskins obediently to get into bed. “Is your life always this busy?”

“Busy. Good word,” grinned Luke. “It’s this busy when I get going to sort something out. Sometimes it’s tedious and boring while I wait around for something I’m expecting to happen.  And sometimes it’s peaceful when I’m between jobs. But trouble finds me readily enough. Ah, there’s the back gate.”

There was a cacophony of metal objects.

“Circle round the edge!” someone called. “Don’t let them see your silhouette!”

Luke sniggered.

“Not got a clue,” he said. He set a taper to a fuse, and shortly, there was a whoosh! Of a rocket. At its zenith, it burst, not into stars, but into a blue-white glow, which seemed to hang in the air. White, startled faces looked up.

“Surrender and consider yourselves under arrest, or die,” called Luke.

“Charge him!” shouted a voice.

Luke sighed.

“I gave them a chance,” he said.

Then, as the mass of men charged, he opened up with the Gatling gun.

Tommy shivered at its inexorable chatter whilst Luke turned the handle, the bullets pouring out of it ruthlessly.

Wolf stood by with another magazine.

It was not necessary. The forty rounds of the hopper magazine were quite sufficient.

“You will not go out the back,” said Luke, to Tommy. “It’s going to be messy.”

“I think I’m glad to obey,” said Tommy. “What about the front?”

“I’ll go look out of the window,” said Luke. He ran upstairs, and came back, laughing.

“Funniest thing I ever saw,” he said. “Three of them run off by a pack of dogs, yipping and howling at their heels. Your aim is good, Tommy-boy, and they’ll we wondering how come all those dogs followed them, unless they figure out that you smothered them with aniseed.” He sniggered again. “Makes me think of a nursery rhyme I learned at my ma’s knee:

Hark! Hark! The dogs do bark

The beggars have come to town

Some in rags and some in tags

And one in a velvet gown.”

Tommy laughed.

“I don’t know that one,” he said.

“It might be purely English,” said Luke. “I wonder how Freddy is getting on.”

“Tomorrow is early enough to find out,” grunted Wolf. “I make tea, then we sleep.”

 

 

Freddy made his way to the Abbott lot with ‘Croaker’ Pennyman, who had not been known as ‘Joey’ by his fond mother for many a long year, since before he was court-martialled and dismissed the Confederate Army for being too crazy and violent.

“Can I play with the kid? Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” sighed Freddy. Pennyman’s games were unpleasant, but if appeased with being permitted to ‘play’ from time to time, he was more quiescent and better behaved in between, and less of a risk to his fellows. Freddy was not sure what had got Pennyman discharged the ranks, but it had involved prisoners, and was hushed up.

He checked his watch.

The Black Falcon and his Indian should be tied down by now.

The bullseye lantern he carried showed a well-trodden path, with small foot prints.

“Little fool,” said Freddy, in scorn.

It never occurred to him for one moment that a little kid might manage to set up a path as bait, nor that an adult would involve a child in such. Children, in Freddy’s book, weren’t clever enough to do much of any use. He recalled little of his own early life; it was sufficiently unpleasant not to want to remember, apart from a brief time when he lived with the schoolmarm when his father was in jail. Freddy had stood then at a crossroads, where he might have accepted her affection for an unwanted little boy, and learn to be a good citizen.  He made his choice, and cleaned out all her finances, having persuaded her to empty her bank account, to pay a non-existent debt of his father’s that he blacked his own eye to convince her that the creditors were demanding it from him. He had tried to rape her, and failed, and she told him that she would forgive him as God had intervened to prevent him violating her. He hit her with the washing dolly, holding it by two of its three legs, used to churn the washing, and pounded her over and over again until she was dead. Then he went to work on the railroad, using his tall frame to lie about his age. Here, he learned to fight, and discovered his ability at extortion.

But Freddy did not care that he had once been a frightened kid about Tommy’s age, who might have had a frugal but happy life with the schoolmarm. He still thought of himself as clever for escaping that ‘trap.’ And so, beyond wanting Tommy dead, to protect himself, he cared nothing.

Freddy held the lantern for Pennyman to open the trapdoor. If the kid had a gun, he would shoot at Pennyman, and if he got lucky, well, that was Pennyman’s loss.

He was not expecting the detonation which happened at the lifting of the stone.

Pennyman was virtually cut in half, and screamed, reaching for the belly which was spilling out into the dirt. By his bad luck, there were no major arteries hit, and the big blood vessels of his liver remained intact. The fireball cauterised much of what was left. Freddy was lifted and thrown a distance, his legs blown off at the knee. He landed hard in a world of pain. Bits of stone punctured his thighs and belly and he screamed.

 

 

Luke ventured out as the sky paled in false dawn. The sheriff would have to involve himself, and he did not want some random deputy being blown up by one of his makeshift mines.  He had a map of where he had planted them, and intended to dismantle them carefully, replacing the dynamite carefully in its box.

It was snowing, fitfully, but Luke had good winter clothing.

By the time he got there, Pennyman had lapsed into unconsciousness from shock; Freddy was whimpering in cold, shock, and pain.

“The hell!” said Luke. “Are you still alive, you egregious wet stain on your mother’s panties?”

“Help me!” whimpered Freddy. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Oh, yes, you will,” said Luke. “You tried to steal from a kid I’m fond of, and killed his parents. And do you know what I want in payment for that?”

“Anything!” said Freddy.

Luke laughed, covering how his stomach churned at what his trap had done.

“What I want is to watch you bleed your miserable life out, and the light to go out of your eyes as the agony is washed away only by death,” he said, viciously. “That kid heard his parents being burned to death. I want to tell him I watched you die in as much unbearable pain.”

“But you have to help me!”

“No, I don’t. I’m not a do-gooder. The law tells me I may not end your life now, because you are helpless, which would be a mercy killing, for you’ve a length of old piping stuck in your gut. You wouldn’t survive being moved, but I won’t help you die quicker. All I have to do to comply with the law is nothing.”

Freddy screamed, and begged, and sobbed; and Luke cleared away the other mines.

“You can always shoot yourself,” said Luke. “You have your gun. Of course, you can shoot me, but you’ll probably miss, and if you try, I’ll shoot your gun out of your hand. Law abiding citizen, me; waiting for the Sheriff’s office to open to tell them that you are alive and injured but armed on my ward’s lot.”

“You’re a cold-blooded devil,” hissed Freddy.

“Yes,” said Luke.

He picked up his last mine, and made his way out of the lot, whistling, his gun loose in his holster, and turning the instant he heard the scrape of Freddy’s gun on his holster.

True to form, Freddy tried to shoot Luke, who shot his six-shooter clear out of Freddy’s hand.

He left the dying man sobbing, and went to the Sheriff’s office, to report the night’s excitement to Dan Nelson.

He quietly vomited into a drain on the way home, and went back seemingly chipper enough to eat breakfast.

The mess in the back yard would be cleared up by the deputy sheriffs; and doubtless the local ordnances would also include a paragraph about repeating weapons not being permitted when protecting life and home, along with a prohibition on dynamite.

Luke did not really care; he had no real expectation of coming back to these parts.

“It’s over, now, Tommy,” he said. “Freddy and the other guy who hurt your pa are both dead.”

He cradled the sobbing little boy to him; the tears were healing.

 

Luke collected Annie-Beth from Mr. and Mrs. Chartovsky, and he, Wolf, Tommy, and Annie-Beth took the train as far as they might, Luke paying without a murmur for the damage Blackwind caused to the caboose.

And with a decent horse each for the children, they could ride to his parents’ house for a real family Christmas. And Christmas with his dear Ida.

 

falcon and wolf 21

 

Chapter 21

 

“Seventeen left,” said Luke, when Nelson had gone. “I want to take out Blackjack Berlin and Croaker Pennyman. I’m tempted to put a bounty on them.”

Wolf sniggered.

“Why not? It would bring them out of the woodwork,” he said. “You want to get that fellow, Tarney, the photographer, to photograph your sketches.”

“Good point,” said Luke. “I’ll skip over and see him.”

 

An hour later, Luke had paid for a full page advertisement in the newspaper, emblazoned with the faces of Berlin and Pennyman, and the declaration that they were wanted for the assault and wounding of Thomas Abbott and manslaughter in causing his death through the wounding, also arson, and murder of his wife by fire.  Luke set a bounty of three thousand dollars on each.

He could easily cover it; but he doubted he would have to.

He also had the posters Tarney had had printed off for him.

He set to work with a will, pasting them up all around the casino, as well as outside the sheriff’s office.

Nelson came out to look.

“All very well, but I doubt that the state will pay.”

“I’m paying. I’ve put the money with the editor of your local rag.”

“You know what this will mean?”

“Things will be noisy for a while as every two-bit gunsel tries to take them down, and you lose a few potential troublemakers.”

“Odd attitude from a bounty hunter.”

“Not really. I’m a conscientious man and I have my code; but many do not. If they go against prey too tough for them and die, I’ll lose no sleep over it. If they kill them, I’ll willingly pay up.  And Tommy will press charges and I’ll be asking for there to be no bail.”

“Under the circumstances that seems fair.”

 

 

It may not be supposed that Big Freddy was doing nothing. He was concerned about the disappearance of eight of his men. Six had gone to deal with the impudent candy man, who was undoubtedly soft; he was said to dress like a dude, an easterner, was very young, and must be a cissy both for selling candy and for being an easterner. He had somehow managed to shoot two of his men, though maybe he had had help. They said he had an Indian with him, presumably some species of bodyguard.  That was why he had sent three more men to the back, to handle the Indian, whilst the three at the front beat the candy man. They had not returned.

Freddy thought there might have been some noise, but the music in his establishment mostly drowned out most external noise, and he had not heeded the odd dull crump!.  Then, there had been that other very innocent looking dude… could he be the same one? But a candy man surely would not gamble like a seasoned veteran? And had that last hand dealt him been accidental, or some kind of message? He shuddered. Aces over eights, the dead man’s hand. But surely that young dude, scarcely more than a schoolboy, could not have dealt it deliberately? He hoped it was not an omen.  But, there again, it should not have taken his bouncers long to beat the little snot up, and return with the money. Money he was in sore need of, since someone had torched the contents of his safe!

Freddy had a bank account; but he liked having the greater part of his assets on hand, available. But who in their right mind would torch tens of thousands of dollars?

Yet there were a sufficiency of scorched corners to make it plain that this is what had, indeed, happened. Freddy had no understanding of a man like Luke, who would scorn to steal, but who wished to enact on Freddy some of the misery enacted on Tommy and Annie-Beth, and who saw the torching of the money as somehow ironic.

He frowned to see the ‘Wanted’ notices of his right-hand men outside, and pulled them down. What a tasteless joke!

Freddy sauntered along to the Sheriff’s Office, and frowned to be greeted by the unpurchasable Dan Nelson. There were posters here, too; this was beyond a joke!

“Where’s Young?” he asked.

“Resigned,” said Nelson. “You lost your patsy.”

“Dear me, I am sure I do not know what you are talking about,” said Freddy.  “I, ah, wondered if any of my, ah, associates were in your lock-up over any sort of misunderstanding.”

Nelson raised an eyebrow.

“Believe me, if I put any man in my lock-up, it won’t be for any misunderstanding,” he said. “But, no, I have none of your murderous thugs in custody, though as you can see, a private citizen has taken out a bounty on two of your worst men. Young Tommy Abbott having been a witness to their actions regarding his father. And to having your name mentioned.  Now, I don’t have enough yet to lock you away, but if you wanted to surrender voluntarily until a trial to keep yourself safe, I’ll be happy to accommodate you.”

“There seem to be a number of bad jests floating around, including the wanted notice on my men.”

“Oh, it’s no joke. Tommy apparently described them well enough to be drawn by a stranger,” said Nelson, relishing this. 

“And what stranger is this?” asked Freddy. “Not that little cissy of a candy man?”

Dan Nelson stared. Then he began laughing. He laughed so hard he had to sit down, slapping his own thighs in amusement.

“I fail to see what is funny,” said Freddy, frostily.

“Doncha? Well, far be it for me to shut you outta the joke,” said Nelson, sniggering. “That ‘little cissy of a candy man’ only happens to be The Black Falcon. I guess an owlhoot like you will have heard of him?”

Freddy had heard of him.

“But dadburnit!” he said. “How can some schoolboy of a candy man be a dangerous man like that?”

“He ain’t a schoolboy and he’s put ten of your men in the morgue so far,” said Nelson. “And his partner took the other couple.”

“But what has he against me? There’s no price on my head. And you imply he’s putting up the money on Berlin and Pennyman.”

“Yup,” said Nelson. “But then, Thomas Abbott Senior was something to him; and he takes it personal.”

Freddy paled.

“Why don’t you have him behind bars for killing my men?” he demanded.

“He hasn’t broken any laws. Displayed his intent to use the second amendment. Your men showed intent to commit grievous bodily harm. They were… neutralised.”

“They were murdered!”

“So were Thomas and Elizabeth Abbott,” said Nelson. “It’s coming time for retribution. And until or unless, he breaks the law, ain’t nuthin’ I can do to protect you. Save lock you up for your own good and try you for murder and racketeerin’.”

“But I’m an upright, honest citizen! Can’t you give me protection?”

“You have the same protection that everyone else has,” said Nelson. “If you stay within the law, you’ll be jus’ dandy. But a word to the wise. If you go pokin’ about the Abbott Hotel lot, you’d be a fool, no matter what rumours you hear of young Tommy havin’ some hide-out in the cellar. Is that clear?”

“As mud,” said Freddy.

“Well, on your own head be it,” shrugged Nelson, who could claim to have warned Freddy to take no notice of whatever rumours Luke might spread.

He had no idea that Luke assessed him a fair enough man to warn Freddy off, thereby being the one to start the rumours.

Luke had fencing put up around the lot, with ‘No trespassing’ and ‘Exercising right to use the 2^nd amendment’ notices. He had Tommy walk back and forth to a supposed cellar trapdoor, to provide a beaten path, with some obvious small footprints. Around the rest, he buried dynamite with its .45 trigger under boards. The stone ‘trapdoor’ Luke installed worked slightly differently. The moment it was lifted, it relinquished its hold on the end of a piece of two dollar patent elastic braces, the power off which, in becoming unstretched, slammed its own bullet into its piece of dynamite. Luke chuckled happily. He looked, had Freddy been there to see him, anything but an innocent dude, even if he did look even more like a schoolboy.

“I wager Freddy’s going to try to get you himself,” he said to Luke. “Shall I add a box of fireworks just for kicks?”

“Oh, yes,” said Tommy.

 

And then the newspaper hit the newsstands, and the pictures of Berlin and Pennyman went out all over the district.

As Luke predicted, this enflamed a number of amateur gunsels, who would never have thought of trying their hands at bounty-hunting if there had not been a fat prize right under their noses.

Three young hotheads got themselves killed that evening.

Luke sighed, and prayed for their souls. They knew the men were dangerous to have such a price on their heads; life is about choices.

He was surprised the next day to get a visit from Sheriff Nelson.

“You’ll have to pay out on Berlin,” he said.

“I will?” said Luke. “Fine. Who?”

“Girl called Lucy Bates. That pair crippled her pa, and drove him out of his shop for not paying protection. She took a shotgun to him. Twelve bore.”

“That would do it,” said Luke. “Appropriate, really, that he should have been well stitched up by a woman.”

“How so?” asked Nelson.

“What, have you never heard of ‘Berlin work,’ which is a type of embroidery?”

“I can’t say I have,” said Nelson.  “But Miss Bates can call her shotgun ‘bodkin’ from now on. Nice girl; in protective custody, and your money will set us up nicely when she becomes Mrs. Daniel Nelson.”

“Congratulations!” said Luke, with genuine pleasure. “A lass worthy of a sheriff, by the sound of it. A woman who can hold a weapon with fortitude is beyond the price of rubies. My own lady is especially good with a pair of long whips.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Vengeance on as nasty a man I have ever known for an acknowledged righteous man who whipped her for the sins of his own lusts, and broke the spirit of her sister whom he had married,” said Luke, in disgust. “My Ida ran away and took refuge with my folks, until we went back to collect her sister.” He sighed.  “My ma reckons the poor woman’s life has been shortened by his cruelty.  I advised her against marrying him, but no, she would go by the contract she had signed as a mail order bride, rather than come to my family and see if we couldn’t break the contract. Wouldn’t take charity.”

“Some women are jus’ plain fools,” said Nelson. “Not that there aren’t men as foolish.”

“You have three of them in the morgue,” said Luke. “I feel half responsible for them.”

“You didn’t make them take up gun against a pair; that price should tell them that they ain’t amateur killers.”

“I know,” said Luke, “But it still stirs my conscience.”

“Well, that makes you a better man than most.  Mr. Sokolov, I warned Freddy not to go messin’ around the Abbott lot, whatever he heard. I had to do so, you know. Why are you grinning?”

“When a man like Frederick Muller is warned not to do something, what do you suppose he’d do?”

“Shit, yes,” said Nelson.

“I rather hoped you would warn him,” said Luke. “Well, we shall see. I imagine he will send someone else against me tonight. I’ll stick to firearms, though.”

“Did I want to ask?”

“A Gatling gun in the back yard shouldn’t create collateral,” said Luke. “See, the way I read it is that he can’t afford to leave me alive. Nor Tommy. So I reckon he’ll take one or two men to the Abbott lot, have two or three shoot at the front of the candy store to pin me down, and rush me from the back with the rest,” said Luke.

“Land sakes! How will you split yourself?”

“I won’t. I’ll deal with the boys at the back.  I might go track down the ones at the front, or maybe I’ll let you arrest them, so the city has some stake in it,” said Luke. “He’ll have Pennyman with him.”

“You got him all sussed out.”

“Yes, I’ve been talking to other shopkeepers and finding out what he’s like; and I played poker with him. He plays a risky and bold hand.”

“One way of readin’ a man, I suppose,” said Nelson, impressed. “I’ll bear it in mind.”

“You might want some men available,” said Luke. “I might have a few other surprises. Got any feral dogs in the city?”

“Too plum many,” said Nelson.

“That might change,” said Luke, with a whoop of delight. “Remember, right now, I’m a confectioner.”

He went to the butcher, to negotiate a few choice morsels to attract dogs, and made up some special cartridges for a shotgun he purchased. A hole drilled through the upstairs false front well to one side of the window gave a firing loop, and he briefed Tommy.

“When the firing starts at the front, you fire that shotgun with the special cartridges once towards the muzzle flash. Never mind if you hit. Just fire the gun, you have four cartridges. After that, you get back down the stairs, you hear?”

“Yes, Luke,” said Tommy. “But why?”

Luke told him, and Tommy was duly filled with the giggles.

He was even ready to sleep all afternoon for a busy night ahead.

Luke went out with a bag of goodies from the butcher – goodies, at least, from the point of view of stray dogs – and trailed it on the ground until every feral dog in the city found the scent.

He left them working on getting down a bag suspended just within reach, to keep them busy. It had a number of juicy ham bones in it for long chewing. It kept them at their post. He retrieved the Gatling gun and set it up; then he and Wolf took turns sleeping until the evening turned into night, and Freddy might be supposed to act.

“It’s thinking about sleeting,” grunted Wolf.

“Let it think, as long as it holds off a few hours,” said Luke. “I don’t want it to dampen the ardour of my fireworks.”

“Shouldn’t stop the dynamite,” said Wolf. “But it might stop Freddy.”

“No; he has to kill the witness,” said Luke. “He’ll curse it with his mangled blasphemies, because he can’t curse in the good, full-bodied way of unwholesome scatology any good Cossack – or Cherokee Cossack – can manage, but he’ll come anyway.”

Wolf nodded.

Luke had a way of getting under the skin of his enemies, and Wolf respected that deeply.

“How’ll he split it?” he asked.

“Pennyman with him. Three at the front.  And the rest at the back, which to my reckoning should be around a dozen.”

“And we have the Gatling gun and they do not,” said Wolf, happily.