The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico; Or, The End of the Silver Trail

by Frank Gee Patchin

All of the newcomers drew their revolvers and sprang to the window.

"Don't shoot!" cried the Pony Rider Boy; "You'll hit the wrong one. There are a hundred people down there."

"He's right!" shouted Mr. Marquand, pushing his way between the men and the window, at the imminent risk of getting a bullet in his back from either Lasar or Comstock. "Let 'em go. They'll be running for home about this time. They are a couple of scoundrels, sir."

"But the damage. Look at my fine room."

"I'll pay for the damage, and I'll quit your hotel now. I've had enough of the place," retorted Mr. Marquand, pulling a roll of bills from his pocket. "How much is it?"

"Well, you see—"

"How much is it?"

"Well, I guess twenty-five would be about right. You see—"

"Here's your twenty-five. Clear out!"

With many apologies the proprietor, accompanied by the others, backed from the room.