Roberts saw that he was covered, caught in the open without his gun and taken completely at a disadvantage, but he was desperate. He was no coward and he knew that capture meant the penitentiary for him. With a roar of rage he ducked back of the women. The other men followed his example instantly, and they all crowded toward the cabin door, keeping the women between them and those threatening guns. Roberts was cunning enough to know that those men would not run the risk of shooting a woman.
Mr. Graham was furious to see this opportunity slipping from him through such a cowardly trick, but he did not dare to risk a shot. There was only one thing to do now. They must get inside that cabin, for on the outside they would be at the complete mercy of the gang and they very well knew what that would mean.
“Come on, fellows,” he shouted, and scrambled from the boat on to the landing stage. Scott forgot his rifle in his eagerness and bounded up the steps empty-handed close at his leader’s heels.
The door was slammed shut, but Mr. Graham thrust his foot into the crack and the impact of his weight quickly followed by that of Scott’s drove it inward and scattered the confused crowd on the inside to all corners of the cabin. The roar of Murphy’s gun announced his arrival and a man crumpled out of the fight with a groan. It was quickly followed by another roar and Scott felt a streak of fire across his neck and the scorch of burning powder on his cheek. He struck out wildly and cut his knuckles on the muzzle of a pistol, but he had spoiled the second shot which tore some shingles from the roof, and he saw the pistol fly from his opponent’s hand. The next instant Roberts’ face, contorted with the fury of an angry beast, burst through the smoke in front of him.
From the moment that Murphy’s gun fired the first shot Scott had been fighting like a man in a dream. The smoke and the gunfire dazed him, and he did not know what to do. But when that furious face broke through the smoke close to his own he came to himself. He could not understand the noise and confusion of a gun battle, but he had had years of training as a boxer and he knew exactly what to do with that snarling face. He landed on it with every ounce of strength he had in his powerful shoulders and the face went back into the smoke as suddenly as it had come.
The three women were cringing in a terrified group on one of the bunks as far removed from the shooting as possible. They evidently had no idea of taking any part in the fight.
Mr. Graham had grappled with one of the men and was writhing on the floor in the opposite corner of the cabin. The two remaining men had both gone after Murphy. One of them had tackled him from the rear and attempted to pin his arms to his side while the other was wrenching the pistol from his grasp. Scott ran to Murphy’s assistance. Just as Scott reached him the man succeeded in getting the pistol and aimed it pointblank in Murphy’s face, but he had to hesitate for a second because the other man was directly in the line of fire.
That second’s hesitation saved Murphy’s life. Before the man could fire Scott landed a smashing blow behind his ear. The man crumpled up without so much as pulling the trigger. The remaining man let go his now useless hold on Murphy and bolted out of the door. Scott left Murphy to chase him and turned to see if Mr. Graham needed any help, but he did not. He had freed himself and was sitting astride the motionless figure. He jumped up now and looked about him.
“Where is Murphy?” he asked, when he recognized Scott through the coat of black powder with which his face was covered.
“He just chased the last man out the door,” Scott explained.