heavy door of the jail locked. Kern
came back, carrying a bundle. Outside, the murmuring had increased at a
single leap to a roar. The rush for the jail was beginning.

Arizona shrank back against the wall, his little eyes glaring
desperately at Sinclair, his last hope in the emergency. But Sinclair
looked to the sheriff. The bundle in the arms of the latter unrolled
and showed two cartridge belts, with guns appended. Next, still in
silence, the sheriff unlocked the door to the cell.

"Sinclair!"

The tall cowpuncher leaped beside him. Arizona skirted away to one side
stealthily.

"None of that!" commanded Kern. "No crooked work, Arizona. I'm giving
you a fighting chance for your lives."

Here he tossed a gun and belt to Sinclair. The latter without a word
buckled it on.

"Now, quick work, boys," said the sheriff. "It's going to be the second
time in my life that prisoners have got away and tied me up.
Understand? They ain't going to be no massacre if I can help it. Gents
like Sinclair don't come in pairs, and he's going to have a fighting
chance. Boys, tie me up fast and throw me in the corner. I'll tell 'em
that you slugged me through the bars and got the keys away. You hear?"

As he spoke he threw Arizona a gun and belt, and the latter imitated
Sinclair in buckling it on. But the fat man then made for the door of
the cell. Outside the rush reached the entrance to the jail and split
on it. The voices leaped into a tumult.

"By thunder," demanded Arizona, "are you going to wait for _that_?"

"You want Kern to get into trouble?" asked Sinclair. "Grab this end and
tie his ankles, while I fix his hands."

Frantically they worked together.

"Are you comfortable, sheriff?"

He lay securely trussed in a corner of the passageway.

"Dead easy, boys. Now what's your plan?"

"Is there a back way out?"

"No way in or out but the front door. You got to wait till they smash
it. There they start now! Then dive out, as they rush. They won't be
expecting nothing like that. But gag me first."

Hastily Sinclair obeyed. The door of the jail was shaking and groaning
under the attack from without, and the shouts were a steady roar. Then
he hurried to the front of the little building. Arizona was already
there, gun in hand, watching the door bulge under the impact. Evidently
they had caught up a heavy timber, and a dozen men were pounding it
against the massive door. Sinclair caught the gun arm of his companion.

"Fatt