Bull sighed. I ain’t got much time, partner, he said. Approaching the door, he examined it wistfully. But, maybe, they’s another way. He drew back a little, raised his right leg, and smashed the heavy cowhide boot against the door. The wood split from top to bottom, and Bull’s leg was driven on through the aperture. He paused to wrench the fragments of the door from lock and hinges and then beckoned to Pete Reeve. Look for your gun in here, Reeve.