llie
had had a word with the brakeman, his young friend Bud Proctor, who had
at once locked the door at the other end of the smoker.

"Now," said Prince in a low voice.

Jim ran up lightly to the platform of the coach and passed inside. A howl
of anger rose from the mob. There was a rush forward. Billie was on the
lower step. His long leg lifted, the toe caught Yankie on the point of
the chin, and the rustler went back head first into the crowd as though
he had been shot from a catapult.

Instantly Prince leaped for the platform and whirled on the mob. He held
now a gun in each hand. His eyes glittered dangerously as they swept
the upturned faces. They carried to every man in the crowd the message
that his prisoner could not be taken as long as the sheriff was alive.

Clanton threw open a window of the coach, rested his arms on the sill,
and looked out. Again there was a roar of rage and a forward surge of the
dense pack on the station platform.

"He ain't even got irons on the man's hands!" a voice shouted. "It's a
frame-up to git him away from us!"

"Don't hide back there in the rear, Roush. Come right up to the front an'
tell me that," called back Prince. "You're right about one thing. I don't
need to handcuff Clanton. He has surrendered for trial, an' I'm here to
see he gets a fair one. I'll do it if I have to put irons _in_ his
hands--shootin' irons."

Jim Clanton, his head framed in the window, laughed insolently. He was a
picture of raffish, devil-may-care ease.

"Don't let Billie bluff you, boys. We can't bump off more'n a dozen or so
of you. Hop to it."

"You won't laugh so loud when the rope's round yore gullet," retorted
Albeen.

"That rope ain't woven, yet," flung back the young fellow coolly.

Even as he spoke a lariat whistled through the air. Jim threw up a hand
and the loop slid harmlessly down the side of the car. One of the riders
of the Flying V Y had tried to drag the prisoner out with a reata.

"You mean well, but you'll never win a roping contest, Syd," jeered
Clanton. "Good of you an' all my old friends to gather here to see me
off, I see you back there, Roush. It's been some years since we met, an'
me always lookin' for you to say to you a few well-chosen words. I'll
shoot straighter next time."

The vigilantes raised a howl of fury. They were like a wolf pack eager
for the kill. Between them and their prey stood one man, cool,
indomitable, steady as a rock. He held death in each