"It's a lie!" yelled Bray from his place against the window. "I jumped that claim for myself! I jumped it myself; and Rimrock Jones, nor none of his friends, can't come and take it away!"
"Oh, they can't, hey?" thundered a voice and Mary started as she saw a tall form through the crowd. It was L. W. Lockhart, the man who had sold Rimrock out and allowed the Old Juan to lapse. "They can't, you say? Well, I want to tell you they can! And, gun-play or not, they will!"
His high hat surged forward into the forbidden space that Bray had cleared with his gun and then a pistol shot rang out. The next moment the glass windows were swaying and bending beneath the weight of the mob. There was a babel of shouting, a quick surge forward and then the crowd gave back. L. W. was coming out and as they gave way before him he addressed the men of Gunsight.
"I've got 'im, boys!" he cried in a frenzy, "come on, we'll string 'im up! We'll show 'im if he can jump Rimrock's claim!"
He came striding from the crowd, one arm hanging limp the other dragging the cursing Ike Bray.
"You got me!" he snarled, shaking Bray like a rat, "but dang you, I've got you, too!"
The mob fell in behind, but as they passed Mary's automobile Bray reached out and clutched it with both hands.
"Let go!" commanded L. W., still dragging at his collar while his bloody arm flapped with each jerk. "Let go, you dastard, or I'll skin you alive—you can't run no sandy over me! The man don't live, so help me God, that can rob a friend of mine!"
He turned back impatiently, but as he raised his boot to stamp on the clinging hands his eyes met Mary Fortune's.
"Don't let him kill me, lady!" gasped Ike Bray imploringly as he felt L. W.'s grip relax. "I only shot in self-defense."