"Shove the counter
ag'in' the door."

"No!" thundered a voice of authority that denoted terror as well. "Let
them come in. Pull your guns an' take to cover!"

"They ain't comin' in," was the hoarse reply. "They'll shoot in on us
from the dark."

"Put out the lamp!" yelled another.

Jean's third heavy swing caved in part of the upper half of the door.
Shouts and curses intermingled with the sliding of benches across the
floor and the hard shuffle of boots. This confusion seemed to be split
and silenced by a piercing yell, of different caliber, of terrible
meaning. It stayed Jean's swing--caused him to drop the ax and snatch
up his rifle.

"DON'T ANYBODY MOVE!"

Like a steel whip this voice cut the silence. It belonged to Blue.
Jean swiftly bent to put his eye to a crack in the door. Most of those
visible seemed to have been frozen into unnatural positions. Jorth
stood rather in front of his men, hatless and coatless, one arm
outstretched, and his dark profile set toward a little man just inside
the door. This man was Blue. Jean needed only one flashing look at
Blue's face, at his leveled, quivering guns, to understand why he had
chosen this trick.

"Who're---you?" demanded Jorth, in husky pants.

"Reckon I'm Isbel's right-hand man," came the biting reply. "Once
tolerable well known in Texas.... KING FISHER!"

The name must have been a guarantee of death. Jorth recognized this
outlaw and realized his own fate. In the lamplight his face turned a
pale greenish white. His outstretched hand began to quiver down.

Blue's left gun seemed to leap up and flash red and explode. Several
heavy reports merged almost as one. Jorth's arm jerked limply,
flinging his gun. And his body sagged in the middle. His hands
fluttered like crippled wings and found their way to his abdomen. His
death-pale face never changed its set look nor position toward Blue.
But his gasping utterance was one of horrible mortal fury and terror.
Then he began to sway, still with that strange, rigid set of his face
toward his slayer, until he fell.

His fall broke the spell. Even Blue, like the gunman he was, had
paused to watch Jorth in his last mortal action. Jorth's followers
began to draw and shoot. Jean saw Blue's return fire bring down a huge
man, who fell across Jorth's body. Then Jean, quick as the thought
that actuated him, raised his rifle and shot at the big lamp. It burst
in a flare. It crashed to the floor. Dar