As they came crowding in at the door, Merry stood beside the blanket on which the wounded ruffian was stretched.
"Hold on, men!" he called quietly. "Monte is dying!"
"What do we keer fer that!" cried one. "All the more reason fer us to hurry an' swing the varmint afore he crokes!"
"Let him die in peace."
"That's escapin' what's his due."
Frank lifted one hand.
"There is One above who will judge him," he said. "It is not for us to do that."
But those men did not fancy the idea of being robbed of their vengeance. Big Monte was helpless in their hands, and they were for swinging him before he could escape them by giving up the ghost.
"Mr. Merriwell, sir," said one, "we respects you all right, an' we don't like to run contrarywise to anything you says here; but in this yere case we has to, most unfortunate. It is our sollum duty to hang this onery hoss-thief, an' that is what we proposes to do. Arter that we'll be ready ter fight fer you an' your mine as long as it's necessary."