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- In sitting up he had touched his side and felt the familiar shape of his .44 Colt through the poncho. The gun was still in its holster, but whether or not it had been emptied of shells while he was unconscious was something he could not discover without openly submitting it to an examination. This he was not yet quite prepared to do. The same held true for an extra revolver, a Colt .45, tucked into his waist-band.
- - The Million-Dollar Bloodhunt, chapter 5
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