nd back," he commanded the Mexicans.

The latter at first stared in astonishment at beholding the pair, one
of whom was San Mateo's foremost citizen, now sullenly advancing with
wrists bound. Exclamations burst from their lips.

At that a flash of hope filled Sorenson's breast.

"To my rescue, friends!" he cried, beginning to struggle.

Weir jerked him ahead fiercely and cast fiercer looks at the
Mexicans.

"This man is under arrest. And remember I can still shoot straight,"
he warned.

Towards him came Madden running, who in Weir's disappearance earlier
in the night he had guessed a pursuit of the cattleman and had
therefore returned to the jail. He placed himself at Sorenson's
right.

"Whoever tries to take Sorenson from the hands of the law does so at
his own peril," he exclaimed.

A few mocking shouts resulted. These were gradually increased until
the Mexicans, now being joined by scores of others from the street,
became a howling, cursing, hysterical mob, crying Sorenson and
Burkhardt's innocence, calling down imprecations on the heads of the
sheriff and the engineer, stirred by certain lawless spirits to wilder
and wilder passion.

Weir and Madden had not been standing still, for the crowd was not yet
numerous enough at first or bold enough to attack. Moreover the two
men held their pistols well in view. Forcing Sorenson ahead, driving
apart those who blocked their way, they pushed across the yard until
but a few paces from the jail.

One Mexican, a ranch hand from one of Vorse's ranches, wearing a great
high-peaked felt hat and chaps, insolently thrust himself before the
trio, spitting at Weir's face and in Spanish begging companions to
help him release Sorenson. His right hand was resting on his holster
as if but awaiting an excuse to use his gun.

"Get to one side," was Weir's harsh order.

The man's answer was a string of foul curses. Like a panther the
engineer leaped forward and struck the fellow on the side of his head
with revolver barrel, dropping him where he stood.

As the crowd remained suddenly mute, unmoving, their howls checked by
this swift reprisal, Weir spoke to Madden:

"Quick! To the door!"

Each with an arm in Sorenson's, they made a run for the jail, passed
through the line of armed guards and for the moment were safe. The
sheriff lost no time in dragging the prisoner inside and when
presently he stepped forth again, locking the door after him, he
showed a relieved face.