“Don’t stop me!” snarled the Texan, his face pale with excitement and rage. “Let me get my paws on that varmint! I sure will have his scalp!”
“Keep him away!” cried Bunol to the landlord. “They are ruffians and robbers! This one tried to rob me right here!”
Although Dick had again grasped the Spaniard, the latter once more squirmed from his fingers and managed to recover his feet. Instantly he sprang toward the hearth, on which his deadly knife lay shining brightly in the light.
Dick had no thought of letting the fellow again get that weapon in his hand. Knowing he had saved his life only by the narrowest possible margin, he now launched himself from a half-crouching position at the Spaniard, hurling the fellow aside and against the wall.
“Stand there!” thundered Buckhart.
In Glasgow Brad had purchased a revolver. This weapon he now had in his hand, and its muzzle was turned toward Bunol.
“Stand there, or by the everlasting Rockies, I’ll bore you in your tracks!” declared the Texan.
Dick quickly snatched up Bunol’s knife.
The Spaniard stood at bay, his black eyes gleaming and his breast rising and falling with his panting breathing. He was like a ferocious wild animal that had fallen into a trap.
“See, landlord!” he cried. “Now they are ready to murder me!”