ck, decisive way.

"There don't seem much use in talking, stranger, so 'spose we make a
fight of it."

"As you prefer."

The gang hardly expected so firm a front. Some of them muttered to one
another. They were not a unit on the question, though it was evident
that the majority preferred to fight.

The three men stood with their backs almost against the mountain wall.
Each had a Winchester and revolver and all were expert in the use of
the weapons. The others were gathered in an irregular group around
their leader. They, too, were provided with all the weapons they could
use, not to mention the extra guns strapped upon the pack mules. They
outnumbered our friends three to one.

Captain Dawson could use his rifle as well with his single arm as
formerly with two.

"He can't fire before me," he said in an undertone to Brush, standing
next to him; "when the shooting begins, I'll drop him off his mule
before he knows what's coming. When I say the word, let fly as quick
as lightning! Likely enough they'll win, but we'll make them pay high
for their victory."

"Do you notice that tall thin man at the rear?" asked Brush, in the
same guarded voice; "his eyes shine like a rattlesnake's; he'll be
_my_ first target."

CHAPTER XXII

FRIENDS

Colonel Briggs was nonplussed for the moment. He had failed to scare
the men whom he meant to despoil of their property and some of the
mutterings behind him showed that he lacked the unanimous support of
his followers.

"Boys," he said, looking round in their faces; "you've heerd what
these strangers say to my mild requests. Since they are too mean to
trade, I leave it to you to say whether we shall let up on 'em or make
'em trade; which is it?"

"Trade! trade!" was the response, given with such ardency that there
seemed to be no dissent, though there was.

"That hits me right; trade it shall be; the first one of the strangers
that kicks, fill him full of holes."

"And the first man that lays a finger on my property," said Captain
Dawson, in the same deliberate voice, "will be shot down like a dog!"

The person whom Parson Brush had selected a few minutes before for
his first target and whom he was watching closely, now did an
extraordinary thing. This individual was thin to emaciation. His
beard was scant and scraggly, and his large black eyes gleamed like
those of a wild animal. He had a very long body, and sat so upright
in his saddle, with his Winchester restin