Suddenly, Solomon Rosenbum sprang toward the opening, a revolver in his hand.
"Holdt on, mine friendts!" he cried, waving the weapon. "Uf anypody dried to get in py dis vindow, he vill ged shot, vid der accent on der shot!"
"Begobs, thot is roight!" shouted Barney Mulloy, as he suddenly produced a "gun," and took his place at Solomon's side. "Kape off, me jools, av ye want ter kape whole skins!"
The mob hesitated. Thus it had been baffled at every turn, and the mad heat of the moment was beginning to subside. Still, it could be aroused again in a twinkling.
Hank Kildare alone could not have protected his prisoner from the crowd, but he had done all one man could possibly do. Now, of a sudden, he retreated into the station, closing and bolting the door.
"That," he said, with a breath of satisfaction, "so fur, everything is all right. An' now it is ter see ef——"
He was interrupted by pistol shots outside, and bullets began whistling in at the broken window.
With an exclamation of anger, the fearless sheriff flung his massive body into the window, roaring:
"Hold up thar, you critters! Don't you know anything a tall? Thar is ladies in hyar, an' yer might shoot 'em ef yer keep flingin' lead round so promiscuous like!"
"We want Black Harry!" yelled a voice.