“Man outside,” he said, addressing Gard. “Four, fi’ men; holler; swear; say you come out. Say you gotta come out.”
The man by the kitchen door now rode forward.
“Hey, you, Misher Barker, Gard, whatever you call yourself,” he yelled thickly, “come out ’n that in th’ name o’ law o’ Arizona!”
“Oh!” Helen cried, “what does he want?”
Gard turned to her with agony in his face.
“It’s—what—we—thought—might happen, I guess,” he said.
“Has—has someone come to take you? Don’t go! Don’t let them take you! Oh, surely there is some other way!” The girl’s voice was full of horror. “Oh!” she moaned, “if only my father were here! Or Sandy!” She looked at him with eyes whose revelation almost broke the man down.
“Be you comin’, in there?” the thick voice outside sounded nearer. “They’sh plenty of ush to take you,” it went on. “Y’ ain’t goin’ to hide in there along o’ no girl, Misher murderer!—We’ll take you both ’f you don’t come out ’n be quick ’bout it!”
Gard caught the words and his face grew suddenly stern. He opened the door and stepped outside. The man on horseback swerved, at sight of him, and galloped back a little distance to where his fellows had come up. Gard could still distinguish them all in the increasing dusk.
“Come out here you damned murderer!”