Bob Hampton of Placer - Page 126/205

"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."

Mason spat into the dump contemptuously, his hands thrust into his

pockets. "You 're a fine-lookin' lot o' law-abidin' citizens, you are!

Blamed if you ain't. Why, I wouldn't give a snap of my fingers fer the

whole kit and caboodle of ye, you low-down, sneakin' parcel o' thieves.

Ye say it wus yer votes whut made me marshal o' this camp. Well, I

reckon they did, an' I reckon likewise I know 'bout whut my duty under

the law is, an' I'm a-goin' to do it. If you fellers thought ye

'lected a chump, this is the time you git left. This yere man, Bob

Hampton, is my prisoner, an' I'll take him to Cheyenne, if I have ter

brain every tough in Glencaid to do it. Thet's me, gents."