Part 23 (2/2)

”Well, kin savvy,” replied the juror judicially. ”Some o' the boys think it a leetle tough to hang a feller fer a thing he kain't remember and that he didn't never think was no harm. It don't look like the Greaser'd take any one right to where he would sh.o.r.e be convicted, ef he had of made this here killin'.”

”Well,” said a conservative soothingly, ”let's wait till to-morrer.

Let's let the Co'te set another day, anyhow.”

”Yes, I reckon that's right; yes, that's so,” said others; ”we'd better wait till to-morrer.”

A brief silence fell upon the gathering, a silence broken only by tinklings or shufflings along the bar. Then, all at once, the sound of an excited voice rose and fell, the cry of some one out upon the gallery in the open air. The silence deepened for one moment, and then there was a surge toward the door.

Far off, over the prairie, there came a little flat, recurrent sound, or series of sounds, as of one patting his fingers softly together. It fell and rose and grew, coming rapidly nearer, until at length there could be distinguished the cracking and popping of the hoofs of running horses. The sound broke into a rattling rumble. There came across the still, keen night a wild, thin, high, shrilling yell, product of many voices.

”It's the Bar O outfit, from the Brazos, coming in,” said some one.

The crowd pressed out into the air. It opened and melted slightly.

The crowd at Curly's shanty increased slightly, silently. Inside, Curly and his friend still played cards. The giant prisoner lay asleep upon the floor, stretched out on his thin native wool mattress, his huge bulk filling half the floor.

The rattle of many hoofs swept up to the door of the Cottage, where the restive, nervous horses were left standing while the men went in, their leader, a stocky, red-mustached man, bearing with him the rope which he had loosened from his saddle. Having drunk, the leader smote upon the bar with a heavy hand.

”Come along, men,” he called out, ”The quicker we hang that d----d Greaser the better it will be. We done heard there was some sort o'

trial goin' on here in town over this. We cowmen ain't goin' to stand no such foolishness. This Greaser killed Cal Greathouse, an' he's got to hang.”

He moved toward the door, followed by many silently, by others with steps that lagged. ”Well, you see--” began one man.

”To h----l with all that!” said the newcomer, turning upon him fiercely.

”We don't need no cowards!”

”No, that ain't it,” resumed the first man, ”but we got to respeck the Co'te--fust Co'te ever did set here, you see. The fellers, some of 'em, thinks--some o' the _jury_ thinks--that the feller's too crazy fer to hang.”

”Crazy be d----d! We're goin' to hang him, an' that settles it. Law an' order kin take care of it afterward.”

All the time they were s.h.i.+fting toward the door. Outside the band of cattlemen who had just ridden in, fresh from the trail, and with but a partial knowledge of the arguments that had been advanced in this court, for which they had but small respect at best, settled the immediate question in an instant. As though by concert they swung into saddle and swept off up the street in a body, above the noise of their riding now breaking a careless laugh, now a shrill yell of sheer joyous excitement. They carried with them many waverers. More than a hundred men drew up in front of the frail shelter over which was spread the doubtful aegis of the law.

Fifty men met them. The lights went out in the house in an instant, and in front of the door there swept a dark and silent cordon. The leader of the invaders paused, but went straight forward.

”We want that man!” he said.

There was no answer. The line in front of the door darkened and thickened. Finally the figure of the young lawyer appeared, and he said calmly, sternly:

”You know very well you can't have him.”

”We don't know nothin' o' the sort. We want him, an' we're goin' to have him. We don't want no one else, an' we won't make no trouble, but we're goin' to take the Mexican. Git out the road!”

A second figure stood by the side of Franklin, and this man was recognised by the leader. ”Aw, now, Curly, what d----d foolishness is this here? Bring him out.”

”You know I won't, Jim,” said Curly, simply. ”We're tryin' him on the square. You ain't the Co'te. I kain't give him to no one but the Co'te.”

”We _are_ the Co'te!” came the hot reply. ”The Co'te that runs this range fer hoss-thieves an' murderers. Now, see here, Curly, we're all your friends, an' you know it, but that feller has got to hang, an'

hang to-night. Git out the way. What's the matter with you?”

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