gle figure that swept up the
steps, unobstructed, aided, indeed, by the mass of packed men in the
street--a figure slight and erect, tingling with the necessity of
action to which every vein and muscle responded, tingling so vitally,
so electrically, that the crowd also tingled, not understanding, but
none the less thrilled.

"Lahoma!" Wilfred was at her side. "You here!"

"Yes, I'm here," she returned breathlessly, her face flaming with
excitement. "I'm going to talk to these people--let me have that--"
She took the revolver from his unresisting hand, uncocked it, and
slipped it into her bosom. Then she faced the mob and held up her
empty hand.

CHAPTER XXIII

FACING THE MOB

It was the first time Lahoma had ever faced an audience larger than
that composed of Brick and Bill and Willock, for in the city she had
been content to play an unobtrusive part, listening to others,
commenting inwardly. Speech was now but a mode of action, and in her
effort to turn the sentiment of the mob, she sought not for words but
emotions. Bill's life was at stake. What could she say to make them
Bill's friends? After her uplifted hand had brought tense silence, she
stood at a loss, her eyes big with the appeal her tongue refused to
utter.

The mob was awed by that light in her eyes, by the crimson in her
cheeks, by her beauty, freshness and grace. They would not proceed to
violence while she stood there facing them. Her power she recognized,
but she understood it was that of physical presence. When she was gone,
her influence would depart. They knew Brick and Bill had sheltered her
from her tenderest years, they admired her fidelity. Whatever she
might say to try to move their hearts would come from a sense of
gratitude and would be received in tolerant silence. The more guilty
the highwayman, the more commendable her loyalty. But it would not
change their purpose; as if waiting for a storm to pass, they stood
stolid and close-mouthed, slightly bent forward, unresisting, but
unmoved.

"I'm a western girl," Lahoma said at last, "and ever since Brick
Willock gave me a home when I had none, I've lived right over yonder at
the foot of the mountains. I was there when the cattlemen came, before
the Indians had given up this country; and I was here when the first
settlers moved in, and when the soldiers drove them out. I was living
in the cove with Brick Willock when people came up from Texas and
planted miles and mi