"Wasn't it my
interests that were first assailed by these fresh tenderfeet! Didn't
you gentlemen come out to-night, to help me attend to my affair?
Didn't you turn also to avenge the blow that has been dealt these cubs
to poor George Ashby's prosperity?"
At hearing himself so sympathetically referred to, Ashby threw himself
forward, a short, double-barreled shotgun in his hands.
"Yes, you, get back, you white-livered cowards!" commanded Ashby
hoarsely. "You let Duff and myself and the rest of us here handle these
young hounds as they deserve to be treated. You, Rafe and Jeff, get out
of this. You've no business here. You belong to the enemies of business
interests in Paloma. The rest of us will settle with these business
destroyers."
Ashby's eyes glowed with the unbridled fury of the lunatic. Yet Rafe
Bodson did not waver.
"Gentlemen," he demanded coldly, "for what purpose did you bring these
young fellows out here?"
"To lynch 'em!" came the hoarse murmur.
"Then go ahead and do it, like men," ordered Bodson.
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