“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 shifting 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?”

“They ain’t nothin’ the matter with me,” said Curly slowly, “‘ceptin’ I done said I wouldn’t give this man up to no man but the Co’te.  A lot o’ us fellers, here in the settlement, we ’lowed that the law goes here now.”