Dale set the gun back down carefully. “No.” He pointed to it. “No Lyra. No Twilight. No Kathrine.” I’ll probably have to fire at least one shot, to give them an idea what it does. They’re smart enough to figure out that if it can make a big hole in dirt, it can also make a big hole in a pony. Hopefully this will keep them from messing with until later. I’m still keeping the ammo with me, though. Since he didn’t have pockets, he made a small pouch in his toga, gripping it with his right hand—which both supported his arm and held the ammunition secure.