“I ’m really sorry that you got mixed up in this, Buck, for it looks to me about nine chances out of ten against either of us getting away from here unhurt.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  It’s bin my experience thet there’s allers chances if you only keep yer eyes skinned.  Of course them fellers has got the bulge; they kin starve us out, maybe they kin smoke us out, and they kin sure make things onpleasant whenever they git their long-range guns to throwin’ lead permiscous.  Thet’s their side of the fun.  Then, on the other hand, if we kin only manage to hold ’em back till after dark we maybe might creep away through the bush to take a hand in this little game.  Anyhow, it ’s up to us to play it out to the limit.  Bless my eyes, if those lads ain’t a-comin’ up right now!”

A half-dozen men were starting to climb the hillside, following a dim trail through the tangled underbrush.  Looking down upon them, it was impossible to distinguish their faces, but two among them, at least, carried firearms.  Mason stepped up on to the ore-dump where he could see better, and watched their movements closely.

“Hi, there!” he called, his voice harsh and strident.  “You fellers are not invited to this picnic, an’ there’ll be somethin’ doin’ if you push along any higher.”

The little bunch halted instantly just without the edge of the heavy timber, turning their faces up toward the speaker.  Evidently they expected to be hailed, but not quite so soon.

“Now, see here, Buck,” answered one, taking a single step ahead of the others, and hollowing his hand as a trumpet to speak through, “it don’t look to us fellers as if this affair was any of your funeral, nohow, and we ’ve come ’long ahead of the others just on purpose to give you a fair show to pull out of it afore the real trouble begins. Sabe?”

“Is thet so?”

The little marshal was too far away for them to perceive how his teeth set beneath the bristly mustache.

“You bet!  The boys don’t consider thet it’s hardly the square deal your takin’ up agin ’em in this way.  They ’lected you marshal of this yere camp, but it war n’t expected you’d ever take no sides ’long with murderers.  Thet’s too stiff fer us to abide by.  So come on down, Buck, an’ leave us to attend to the cuss.”

“If you mean Hampton, he’s my prisoner.  Will you promise to let me take him down to Cheyenne fer trial?”

“Wal, I reckon not, old man.  We kin give him a trial well ’nough right here in Glencaid,” roared another voice from out the group, which was apparently growing restless over the delay.  “But we ain’t inclined to do you no harm onless ye ram in too far.  So come on down, Buck, throw up yer cards; we’ve got all the aces, an’ ye can’t bluff this whole darn camp.”