161CHAPTER XIX
THE MAN-KILLER
“Did he hit ye?” yelled Bunker when Denver had conquered his pitching horse and set him back on his haunches. “Hell’s bells, boy, I told you to stay out of there!”
“Well, you lend me a gun!” shouted Denver in a fury, “and I’ll go back and shoot it out with that dastard! It’s him or me–that’s all!”
“Here’s a gun, pardner,” volunteered a long-bearded prospector handing up a six-shooter with tremulous eagerness; but Bunker Hill struck the long pistol away and took Denver’s horse by the bit.
“Not by a jugful, old-timer,” he said to the prospector. “Do you want to get the kid killed? Come on back to the meeting and we’ll frame up something on these jumpers that’ll make ’em hunt their holes. But this boy here is my friend, understand?”
He held the prancing horse, which had been spattered with glancing lead, until Denver swung down out of the saddle; and then, while the crowd followed along at their heels, he led the way back to the store.
162“What’s going on here?” demanded Denver, looking about at the automobile and the men who had popped up like magic, “has Murray made a strike?”
“Danged right,” answered Bunker, “he made a strike last month–and now he has jumped all our claims. Or at least, it’s his men, because Dave there’s the leader; but Murray claims they’re working for themselves. He’s over at his camp with a big gang of miners, driving a tunnel in to tap the deposit–it run forty per cent pure copper.”
“Well, we’re made then,” exulted Denver, “if we can get back our claims. Come on, let’s run these jumpers off!”
“Yes, that’s what I said, a few hours ago,” grumbled Bunker biting savagely at his mustache, “and I never was so hacked in my life. We went up to this Dave and all pulled our guns and ordered him out of the district, and I’m a dadburned Mexican if he didn’t pull his gun and run the whole bunch of us away. He’s nervy, there’s no use talking; and I promised Mrs. Hill that I’d keep out of these shooting affrays. By grab, it was downright disgraceful!”