It was understood that the sheriff should make a perfunctory defense against the mob in order to "square" him with the voters at the election soon to be held.But the word had been quietly passed that the bullets of the prison guards would be fired over the heads of the attackers.This assurance lent an added braggadocio to the Dutch courage of the lynchers.Many of them who would otherwise have hung back distinguished themselves by the enthusiasm which they displayed.
Bannister himself generaled the affair, detailing squads to batter down the outer door, to guard every side of the prison, and to overpower the sheriff's guard.That official, according to programme, appeared at a window and made a little speech, declaring his intention of performing his duty at whatever cost.He was hooted down with jeers and laughter, and immediately the attack commenced.
The yells of the attackers mingled with the sound of the axe-blows and the report of revolvers from inside the building.Among those nearest to the door being battered down were Denver and the few men he had with him.His plan offered merely a forlorn hope.It was that in the first scramble to get in after the way was opened he and his friends might push up the stairs in the van, and hold the corridor for as long as they could against the furious mob.
It took less than a quarter of an hour to batter down the door, and among the first of those who sprang across the threshold were Denver, Missou, Frisco and their allies.While others stopped to overpower the struggling deputies according to the arranged farce, they hurried upstairs and discovered the cell in which their friends were fastened.
Frisco passed a revolver through the grating to McWilliams, and another to Bannister."Haven't got the keys, so I can't let y'u out, old hoss," he told the foreman."But mebbe y'u won't feel so lonesome with these little toys to play with."Meanwhile Denver, a young giant of seventy-six inches, held the headof the stairs, with four stalwart plainsmen back of him.The rush of many feet came up pell-mell, and he flung the leaders back on those behind.
"Hold on there.This isn't a free-lunch counter.Don't you see we're crowded up here already?""What's eating you ? Whyfor, can't we come?" growled one of the foremost nursing an injured nose.
"I've just explained to you, son, that it's crowded.Folks are prevalent enough up here right now.Send up that bunch of keys and we'll bring your meat to you fast enough.""What's that? What's that?" The outlaw chief pushed his way through the dense mob at the door and reached the stairway.
"He won't let us up," growled one of them.
"Who won't?" demanded Bannister sharply, and at once came leaping up the stairs.
"Nothing doing," drawled Frisco, and tossed him over the railing on to the heads of his followers below.
They carried Bannister into the open air, for his head had struck the newel-post in his descent.This gave the defense a few minutes respite.
"They're going to come a-shooting next time," remarked Denver."Just as soon as he comes back from bye-low land you'll see things hum.""Y'u bet," agreed Missou.We'll last about three minutes when the stampede begins."The scream of an engine pierced the night.
Denver's face lit."Make it five minutes, Missou, and Mac is safe.At least, I'm hoping so awful hard.Miss Helen wired for the militia from Sheridan this nothing.Chances are they're on that train.I couldn't tell you earlier because she made me promise not to.She was afraid it might leak out and get things started sooner."Weak but furious, the miscreant from the Shoshones returned to the attack."Break in the back door and sneak up behind on those fellows.We'll have the men we want inside of fifteen minutes," he promised the mob.
"We'll rush them from both sides, and show those guys on the landing whether they can stop us," added Bostwick.
Suddenly some one raised the cry, "The soldiers!" Bannister looked up the street and swore a vicious oath.Swinging down the road at double time came a company of militia in khaki.He was mad with baffled fury, but he made good his retreat at once and disappeared promptly into the nearest dark alley.
The mob scattered by universal impulse; disintegrated so promptly that within five minutes the soldiers held the ground alone, save for the officials of the prison and Denver's little band.
A boyish lieutenant lately out of the Point, and just come in to a lieutenancy in the militia, was in command."In time?" he asked anxiously, for this was his first independent expedition.
"Y'u bet," chuckled Denver."We're right glad to see you, and I'll bet those boys in the cage ain't regretting your arrival any.Fifteen minutes later and you would have been in time to hold the funeral services, I reckon." "Where is Miss Messiter?" asked the young officer.
"She's at the Elk House, colonel.I expect some of us better drift over there and tell her it's all right.She's the gamest little woman that ever crossed the Wyoming line.Hadn't been for her these boys would have been across the divide hours ago.She's a plumb thoroughbred.Wouldn't give up an inch.All day she has generaled this thing; played a mighty weak hand for a heap more than it was worth.Sand? Seh: she's grit clear through, if anybody asks you." And Denver told the story of the day, making much of her unflinching courage and nothing of her men's readiness to back whatever steps she decided upon.
It was ten minutes past eleven when a smooth young, apple-cheeked lad in khaki presented himself before Helen Messiter with a bow never invented outside of West Point.
"I am Lieutenant Beecher.Governor Raleigh presents his compliments by me, Miss Messiter, and is very glad to be able to put at your service such forces as are needed to quiet the town.""You were in time?" she breathed.
