Scoundrels (Fiction 101 Series)
One scoundrel met another on a deserted western street. The other scoundrel – the one-armed pistoleer – raised his left hand over his head. But not out of defeat. The first scoundrel wasn’t going to fall for that old trick. He pulled his pneumatic puff-canon on him with a sinister stare. With a wry grin, the second scoundrel slowly lowered his hand as a diversion while his mechanical right arm raised a brass light-beam caster from its holster. Both scoundrels were at a stalemate. Neither said a word 'til one fired. And the battle was on – until mom called them in for dinner.
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