lt something of his unrestrained lawlessness go from him.

Less noisy now, the crowd spread itself out among the benches or swarmed
up into the tiny gallery at the back of the building. Man after man had
hurried forward, intent on passing beyond the railing, but each lead
encountered the judge, formidable and forbidding, and had turned
aside. Gradually the many pairs of eyes roving over the little group
surrounding the outlaw focussed themselves on Slocum Price. It was in
unconscious recognition of that moral force which was his, a tribute to
the grim dignity of his unshaken courage; what he would do seemed worth
considering.

He was charmed to hear his name pass in a whisper from lip to lip. Well,
it was time they knew him! He squared his ponderous shoulders and made a
gesture commanding silence. Battered, shabby and debauched, he was
like some old war horse who sniffs the odor of battle that the wind
incontinently brings to his nostrils.

"Don't let him speak!" cried a voice, and a tumult succeeded.

Cool and indomitable the judge waited for it to subside. He saw that the
color was stealing back into Murrell's face. The outlaw was feeling that
he was a leader not overthrown, these were his friends and followers,
his safety was their safety too. In a lull in the storm of sound the
judge attempted to make himself heard, but his words were lost in the
angry roar that descended on him.

"Don't let him speak! Kill him! Kill him!"

A score of men sprang to their feet and from all sides came the click
of rifle and pistol hammers as they were drawn to the full cock. The
judge's fate seemed to rest on a breath. He swung about on his heel and
gave a curt nod to Yancy and Cavendish, who, falling back a step, tossed
their guns to their shoulders and covered Murrell. A sudden hush grew up
out of the tumult; the cries, angry and jeering, dwindled to a murmur,
and a dead pall of silence rested on the crowded room.

The very taste of triumph was in the judge's mouth. Then came a
commotion at the back of the building, a whispered ripple of comment,
and Colonel Fentress elbowed his way through the crowd. At sight of his
enemy the judge's face went from white to red, while his eyes blazed;
but for the moment the force of his emotions left him speechless. Here
and there, as he advanced, Fentress recognized a friend and bowed coolly
to the right and left.

"What does this ridiculous mockery mean?" he demanded harshly. "Mr.
Sherif