er's recognition and the snatching up of his rifle Kelley was able
to catch and depress the muzzle of the gun before it was discharged. The
bullet passed low, entering the wooden sidewalk close to his foot. "I'll
take that gun," he said, and would have immediately overpowered his
adversary had not several of the by-standers furiously closed in upon
him. Single-handed he was forced to defend himself against these, his
fellow-citizens, as well as against Mink, who struggled like a wildcat
for the possession of his gun. One man seized the marshal from behind,
pinioning his arms. Another hung upon his neck. A third dogged at his
knees, a fourth disarmed him.

Battered, bruised, covered with blood and dirt, the marshal fought like
a panther weighed down with hounds. Twice he went to earth smothered,
blinded, gasping, but rose again almost miraculously, still unconquered,
until at last, through the sudden weakening of the men on his right arm
he gained possession of the rifle, and with one furious sweep brought it
down on the gambler's head. Another circling stroke and his assailants
fell away. With blazing eyes he called out: "_Get back there now! Every
man of you!_"

Breathing hard, he looked them over one by one. "You're a pretty bunch
of citizens," he said, with cutting contempt. "You ought to be
shot--every man jack of you!" Then glancing down at the wounded gambler
at his feet, he added: "Some of you better take this whelp to a doctor.
He needs help."

Lemont and another of Mink's friends took up the unconscious man and
carried him into the drug-store, and Kelley followed, with a feeling
that all the town was against him, and that he must re-arm himself for a
night of warfare. His revolver was gone, and to replace it and to gain a
breathing-space he retreated to his room, his endurance all but
exhausted.

He had no regret for what he had done. On the contrary, he took a savage
satisfaction in having at last ended Mink, but as he hurriedly buckled
on his cartridge-belt, he foresaw the danger ahead of him in Mink's
friends, who, he knew, would get him if they could.

The patter of feet in the hall and a knock at the door startled him.
"Who's there?" he demanded, catching up his rifle.

"It's Rosa," called a girlish voice. "Let me in."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes. Open! Quick!"

He opened the door, gun in hand. "What is it, Rosie?" he gently asked.

"They're coming!" she answered, breathlessly.

"Who're coming?"