Ogle hesitated.
"What do you want to say?" he asked sullenly.
Captain Bill laid his hand on Ogle's shoulder.
"I want to say some things that you might not want your friends to hear," he said—and a quaver in his voice then would have been death—"Come outside!"
He applied a firm pressure to Ogle's shoulder and steered him for the door. The others, as silent as death, made no move. They did not offer to interfere—they did not attempt to shoot. They simply looked on, wondering.
Outside, Captain Bill led Ogle to the middle of the street. It was blazing hot and the sand burned through his boots, but he could talk to Ogle out there and keep an eye on the others, too.
"Now, Bill Ogle," he said, in his deliberate calm way—"I know all about you. I know how you and your outfit murdered Jim Brown—just how you planned it, and how you did it. I've got all the proof and I'm going to hang you if there is any law in this country to hang a man for a foul murder like that. That's what I'm here for, and I am not afraid of you, nor of any of the men over there in that store that helped you do your killing. You are all a lot of cowardly murderers that only shoot defenseless men from ambush, and I'm going to stay here until I break up your gang if I have to put you every one on the gallows or behind the bars, and I'm going to begin with you."
As Captain Bill talked the sweat began to pour off of Ogle and his knees seemed to weaken. Presently they could no longer support his stout body and he sat heavily down in the hot sand, trying weakly to make some defense.
"Get up," said Captain Bill, "haven't you got your gun?"
"No, sir, Captain, I haven't."