“Come out,” said his enemy, hoarsely, upon whom the insult and the sight of the girl in the receiver’s company had acted powerfully.

“Of course I’ll come out, but I don’t want this young lady to suffer any violence from your friends,” said McNamara.  “I am not armed, but I have the right to leave here unmolested—­the right of an American citizen.”  With that he raised his arms above his head.  “Out of my way!” he cried.  Morehouse opened the gate, and McNamara strode through the mob.

It is a peculiar thing that although under fury of passion a man may fire even upon the back of a defenceless foe, yet no one can offer violence to a man whose arms are raised on high and in whose glance is the level light of fearlessness.  Moreover, it is safer to face a crowd thus than a single adversary.

McNamara had seen this psychological trick tried before and now took advantage of it to walk through the press slowly, eye to eye.  He did it theatrically, for the benefit of the girl, and, as he foresaw, the men fell away before him—­all but Glenister, who blocked him, gun in hand.  It was plain that the persecuted miner was beside himself with passion.  McNamara came within an arm’s-length before pausing.  Then he stopped and the two stared malignantly at each other, while the girl behind the railing heard her heart pounding in the stillness.  Glenister raised his hand uncertainly, then let it fall.  He shook his head, and stepped aside so that the other brushed past and out into the street.

Wheaton addressed the banker: 

“Mr. Morehouse, we’ve got orders and writs of one kind or another from the Circuit Court of Appeals at ’Frisco directing that this money be turned over to us.”  He shoved the papers towards the other.  “We’re not in a mood to trifle.  That gold belongs to us, and we want it.”

Morehouse looked carefully at the papers.

“I can’t help you,” he said.  “These documents are not directed to me.  They’re issued to Mr. McNamara and Judge Stillman.  If the Circuit Court of Appeals commands me to deliver it to you I’ll do it, but otherwise I’ll have to keep this dust here till it’s drawn out by order of the court that gave it to me.  That’s the way it was put in here, and that’s the way it’ll be taken out.”

“We want it now.”

“Well, I can’t let my sympathies influence me”

“Then we’ll take it out, anyway,” cried Glenister.  “We’ve had the worst of it everywhere else and we’re sick of it.  Come on, men.”

“Stand back!—­all of you!” cried Morehouse.  “Don’t lay a hand on that gate.  Boys, pick your men.”

He called this last to his clerks, at the same instant whipping from behind the counter a carbine, which he cocked.  The assayer brought into view a shot-gun, while the cashier and clerks armed themselves.  It was evident that the deposits of the Alaska Bank were abundantly safeguarded.

“I don’t aim to have any trouble with you-all,” continued the Southerner, “but that money stays here till it’s drawn out right.”