ay? A
refuge for highwaymen and murderers?"

A struggle took place at the foot of the stairs, not so good-naturedly
as heretofore. A reasoning voice was heard: "Just let me say a word
to the boys."

"Yes!" called others, "let's hear HIM!"

There was a surging forward, and a man was lifted literally over the
heads of the three deputies; he reached the platform breathless,
disheveled, but triumphant. It was the survivor of Red Kimball's band.

Mizzoo, mistaking his coming for a general rush, had hastily relocked
the door, and he and Wilfred defended themselves with drawn revolvers.

"I ain't up here to do no harm," called the ex-highwayman. "I ain't
got the spirit for warfare. My chief is killed, my pards is dead. Even
that innocent stage-driver what knew nothing of us, is killed in the
attack that Brick Willock made on us in the dark and behind our backs.
How're you going to grow when the whole world knows you ain't nothing
but a den of snakes? You may claim it's all Brick Willock. I say if
he's bigger than the town, if he murders and stabs and you can't help
it, then the town ain't as good as him. My life's in danger. I don't
know if I'll draw another breath. What kind of a reputation is that for
you to send abroad? There's a man in this jail can tell you where
Willock's hiding. Good day!"

The speaker was down the steps in two leaps, and the deputies drew
aside to let him pass out. Civic pride, above all, civic ambition, had
been touched to the quick. A hoarse roar followed the speech, and
cries for Bill grew frantic. Mizzoo, afraid to unlock the door, stared
at Wilfred in perplexity.

"I told you they had civilization on the brain," he muttered. "The old
times are past. I daresn't make a move toward that lock."

"Drop the keys behind you--I'll get 'em," Wilfred murmured. "Step a
little forward. Say something to 'em."

"Ain't got nothing to say," growled Mizzoo, glaring at the mob. "These
boys are in the right of it, that's how I feel--cuss that obstinate old
bobcat! it's his own fault if they string him up."

"Here they come!" Wilfred exclaimed.

"Steady now, old Mizzoo--we've whipped packs of wolves before
today--coyotes crazy with hunger--big gray loafers in the rocks--eh,
Mizzoo?" He shouted to the deputies who had been pushed against the
railing: "Give it to 'em, boys!"

But the deputies did not fire, and the mob, though chafing with mad
impatience, did not advance. It was a sin