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Page 73
"Ay, but that's courage of the kind you don't expect to find in a blamed
tenderfoot!" remarked Jeff Moore, resting a hand first on Tom's shoulder
and then on Harry's.
"Why?" asked Tom. "Does it surprise you?"
"It shore does," replied Jeff.
"Is courage a matter of geography, then?" Tom inquired.
"I--I--pardner, you've got me there," Jeff admitted, looking puzzled.
"Yet, somehow, I never looked for much courage in a fellow who hailed
from east of the Mississippi."
George Ashby had been looking on during the last few moments, his eyes
glittering strangely. Yet, as he said nothing, the attention of the
others had turned from him.
Jeff Moore happened to turn just in time to see the muzzle of the
shotgun turned fully on Tom Reade's waist line, and Ashby's forefinger
resting on one of the triggers.
Bang! spoke the gun, a sheet of flame leaped forth.
Tom Reade did not even start. All his nerve had come to the surface in
that instant. He was unharmed, for Jeff's sweeping arm had knocked
aside the muzzle of the gun and the shot had entered the leg of one of
the raiders.
"What'd you do that for, Jeff?" groaned the injured man, sinking to the
alkali dust.
But Moore was busy with the mad hotel keeper, having clinched with him,
and now being engaged in taking away the shotgun, one barrel of which
was still loaded.
"Stand back there, friends," warned Rafe Bodson, who still held his
revolver in his right hand. "We don't want to see any more of the party
hurt."
Jeff had the gun in a moment, despite the insane fury with which Ashby
fought.
"Take care of this, Rafe," requested Jeff, turning over the gun, which
Bodson received with his left hand.
Ashby, momentarily free, sprang at the new bolder of the weapon, but
Moore tripped him and fell upon him.
The other men stood by as though fascinated, not interfering. Perhaps
they felt that their safety depended upon Ashby's being disarmed.
There was a short, sharp scuffle on the ground after which Moore rose,
leaving the hotel man with his hands tied behind his back.
"And I request," remarked Moore, "that no gentleman present cut the
knots that I have tied. It'll be a favor to me to have Ashby left alone
for the present."
"Now, then, Rafe or Jeff," spoke the gambler, mustering up what remained
of his courage, "since you two have taken charge of affairs, won't you
be good enough to inform us what your pleasure is?"
"We're not in charge," retorted Bodson sullenly. "All we've undertaken
to do is to look out for the square deal that you promised, Duff, and
which you didn't exhibit in a way that we liked. As for the rest, go
ahead when you like--but don't do any more hitting with your fists."
"We'll go ahead with the lariat, then?" hinted Duff eagerly.
"If that's the pleasure of the gentlemen," Bodson agreed, bowing
slightly.
To the gambler it seemed the opportune moment to rush matters.
"Bring up lariats, two of you," Duff ordered, turning around to the
others. "And don't waste time over it."
The rawhide ropes were brought. The gambler himself tied the nooses,
testing them to see that they ran freely.
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