"That's all right," was the sarcastic response of the spokesman of the crowd. "I told you we were not going to waste any words on you, and we are not."
"String him up!" shouted another of the party. "Get the job done with! We're taking big chances in delaying the thing."
"That's right!"
"H'ist the derned hoss thief, then!"
"We've had enough chin music; let's get to work."
These were a few of the comments of the would-be executioners.
One man now stepped to the front. It was he who had followed Al from the town. He had now donned a mask like the rest of the party.
"I'll do the job," he said. "Will you leave it to me, gents?"
Al started. Where had he heard that voice? Before any reply could be made he said, in a loud, clear voice:
"Gentlemen, I am innocent of this crime. My name is Allen Allston. I live in Boomville. Hundreds of people there know me, and can tell you what my reputation is. Why, I should not have the slightest trouble in proving an alibi. If you murder me, you will all bitterly regret it some day. You do not want to commit a murder; you want to do what you think an act of justice. You are making an awful mistake; give me a chance, and I will prove it."