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Page 66
"One rope will be enough as soon as we can find a tree."
The party was riding into the railroad camp now, and a dense crowd
pressed forward to see the face of the keeper of the Mansion House.
Ashby was chuckling gleefully. If any fear of the consequences of his
lawless behavior oppressed him, he was far from betraying the fact.
"Be gentle with him, friends," Tom urged, riding forward.
"Yes; we ought to be gentle with every rattlesnake," came an answer from
the crowd.
Ashby laughed harshly.
"You can't hurt me, neighbors," declared the hotel man. "I'm bullet
proof. Any man who fires at me will find that the bullet will rebound
and bit him. Tie me up to a tree, if you like. You'll find that I won't
choke. I'll just slide back to earth as often as you tie me up."
"Just what I thought," murmured Tom.
"What do you think?" demanded Mr. Ellsworth from the car.
"The man's as mad as a March hare," replied Reade.
"Humph! He's merely shamming," retorted the general manager.
"Stow the funny business, Ashby!" came the advice from the crowd. "You
can't fool us into believing that you're crazy."
"Crazy?" repeated the hotel man, a look of amazement creeping into his
face. "Of course I'm not crazy. I'm the only sane man in this crowd."
Men began to look wonderingly at the hotel man, though many still
believed that Ashby was cleverly shamming insanity in order to save his
neck from being stretched.
"Doe Furniss! Come over here!" called Reade. "Gentlemen, this is a
question for Doe Furniss. Don't think of doing anything to the fellow
until you've heard from Doc. Make way for the doctor, gentlemen."
At a sign from Dr. Furniss the captors led Ashby's horse onward until
the office shack was reached. Here two men freed the captive from his
horse and led him inside. Dr. Furniss followed them and the door was
closed.
"Let's get away from here," urged Tom Reade. "A big crowd hanging about
is sure to excite the poor fellow."
"Reade, you're too soft and easy," grunted a Paloma man in the crowd.
"The only thing that makes Ashby crazy is that he didn't get you."
"He did 'get' me, however," laughed Tom, displaying four bullet holes
through his shirtsleeves, and two more that pierced his hat. "Ashby got
as much of me as I'd want any marksman to get."
Having withdrawn to a distance, the crowd waited.
It was nearly half an hour before Dr. Furniss stepped outside. Now he
walked swiftly over to the edge of the crowd.
"Gentlemen," remarked the physician, "you are justified in feeling very
well pleased that you didn't lynch Ashby. The poor fellow is as insane
as a man could well be. He imagines Mr. Reade has hurt his business and
is determined to kill him. I'll send for a straightjacket and then
we'll hustle him away to the asylum."
At this moment a wild yell sounded from the shack, to be echoed from the
crowd. George Ashby, seemingly possessed of the strength of half a
dozen men, had wrenched himself free of his captors, felling both like a
flash. Then the hotel man leaped to his horse, freeing it and starting
off at a mad gallop.
Instantly a score of men set off after the fugitive, swinging their
lariats as they rode.
Crack! Crack! Bang!
Snatching still another automatic revolver from one of his saddle bags,
Ashby was now firing at those riding behind him.
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