estcott to
keep their path clear, both levelled revolvers ready for any movement.
He knew Haskell, and he knew the character of these hangers-on at the
"Red Dog." He realised fully the influence of Bill Lacy, and
comprehended that the affair was far from being ended; but just now he
had but one object before him--to get his prisoner safely outside into
the open. Beyond that he would trust to luck, and a fair chance. His
grey eyes were almost black as they gleamed over the levelled revolver
barrels, and his clipped moustache fairly bristled.

"Not a step, you!" he muttered. "What's the matter, Lacy? Do you want
to die in your tracks? Mike, all I desire is an excuse to make you the
deadest bung-starter in Colorado. Put down that gun, Carter! If just
one of you lads come through that door, I'll plug these twelve shots,
and you know how I shoot--Lacy will get the first one, and Mike the
second. Stand there now! Go on out, Jim; I'm right along with you."

They were far from free even outside the swinging doors and in the
sunshine. Already a rumour of what had occurred had spread like
wildfire, and men were on the street, eager enough to take some hand in
the affray. A few were already about the steps, while others were
running rapidly toward them, excited but uncertain.

It was this uncertainty which gave the little marshal his one slender
chance. His eyes swept the crowd, but there was no face visible on
whom he could rely in this emergency. They were the roughs of the
camp, the idlers, largely parasites of Lacy; those fellows would only
hoot him if he asked for help. No, there was no way but to fight it
out themselves, and the only possibility of escape came to him in a
flash. Suddenly as this emergency had arisen the marshal was prepared;
he knew the lawless nature of the camp, and had anticipated that some
time just such a situation as this might arise. Now that it had come,
he was ready. There was scarcely an instant of hesitancy, his quick
searching eyes surveying the scene, and then seeking the face of his
prisoner.

"Willing to fight this out, Jim?" he asked shortly.

"You bet, Dan; what's the plan?"

"The big rock in Bear Creek. We can hold out there until dark.
Perhaps there'll be some men come to help us by that time; if not we
might crawl away in the night. Take the alley and turn at the hotel.
Don't let anybody stop you; here comes those hell-hounds from inside.
Christopher Columbus, I