"None o' that, Ben," he growled, warningly. "It don't never pay to
shoot holes in Uncle Sam."
Brant smiled. He was not there just then to fight, but to secure delay
until his own men could arrive, and to turn aside the fierce mob spirit
if such a result was found possible. He knew thoroughly the class of
men with whom he dealt, and he understood likewise the wholesome power
of his uniform.
"I really would enjoy accommodating you, Colton," he said, coolly,
feeling much more at ease, "but I never fight personal battles with
such fellows as you. And now, you other men, it is about time you woke
up to the facts of this matter. A couple of hundred of you chasing
after two men, one an officer of the law doing his sworn duty, and the
other innocent of any crime. I should imagine you would feel proud of
your job."
"Innocent? Hell!"
"That is what I said. You fellows have gone off half-cocked--a mob
generally does. Both Miss Spencer and Mr. Wynkoop state positively
that they saw the real murderer of Red Slavin, and it was not Bob
Hampton."
The men were impressed by his evident earnestness, his unquestioned
courage. Colton laughed sneeringly, but Brant gave him no heed beyond
a quick, warning glance. Several voices spoke almost at once.
"Is that right?"
"Oh, say, I saw the fellow with his hand on the knife."
"After we git the chap, we 'll give them people a chance to tell what
they know."
Brant's keenly attentive ears heard the far-off chug of numerous
horses' feet.
"I rather think you will," he said, confidently, his voice ringing out
with sudden authority.
He stepped back, lifted a silver whistle to his lips, and sounded one
sharp, clear note. There was a growing thunder of hoofs, a quick,
manly cheer, a crashing through the underbrush, and a squad of eager
troopers, half-dressed but with faces glowing in anticipation of
trouble, came galloping up the slope, swinging out into line as they
advanced, their carbines gleaming in the sunlight. It was prettily,
sharply performed, and their officer's face brightened.
"Very nicely done, Watson," he said to the expectant sergeant. "Deploy
your men to left and right, and clear out those shooters. Make a good
job of it, but no firing unless you have to."
The troopers went at it as if they enjoyed the task, forcing their
restive horses through the thickets, and roughly handling more than one
who ventured to question their authority. Yet the work was over in
less time than it takes to tell, the discomfited regulators driven
pell-mell down the hill and back into the town, the eager cavalrymen
halting only at the command of the bugle. Brant, confident of his
first sergeant in such emergency, merely paused long enough to watch
the men deploy, and then pressed straight up the hill, alone and on
foot. That danger to the besieged was yet imminent was very evident.
The black spiral of smoke had become an enveloping cloud, spreading
rapidly in both directions from its original starting-point, and
already he could distinguish the red glare of angry flames leaping
beneath, fanned by the wind into great sheets of fire, and sweeping
forward with incredible swiftness. These might not succeed in reaching
the imprisoned men, but the stifling vapor, the suffocating smoke held
captive by that overhanging rock, would prove a most serious menace.