“Oh, nutting–come again!” exclaimed the Professor apprehensively. “Come to-morrow–I show you everyt’ing!”
“You’ll show me now,” returned Denver imperturbably, “I’m not afraid of the whole danged bunch. Come on, what have you got–a bottle?”
“Yoost a piece of copper from Murray’s tunnel–Mein Gott, I hear dem boys coming!”
He sprang to the door and dropped the heavy bar but Denver struck it up and stepped out.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” he demanded suspiciously and the door slammed to behind him.
“Run! Run!” implored the Professor staring out through his peep-hole but Denver lolled negligently against the house. A crowd of men, headed by Slogger Meacham, were coming down the street; but it was not for him to fly. He had a gun now, as well as they, and his back was against the wall. They could pass by or stop, according to their liking; but the show-down had come, there and now.
They came on in a bunch down the middle of the street, ignoring his watchful glances; but as the rest 229trampled past Slogger Meacham turned his head and came to a bristling halt.
“Well,” he said, “out for a little airing?” And the jumpers swung in behind him.
“Yes,” answered Denver regarding him incuriously and the Slogger moved a step or two closer.
“You start anything around here,” he went on significantly, “and you’ll be airing the smoke out of your clothes. We got your number, see, and we’re here to put your light out if you start to make a peep.”