“Quick! To the door!”
Each with an arm in Sorenson’s, they made a run for the jail, passed through the line of armed guards and for the moment were safe. The sheriff lost no time in dragging the prisoner inside and when presently he stepped forth again, locking the door after him, he showed a relieved face.
“I put irons on him, hands and feet,” he informed Weir. “He’s out of the way at any rate if we’re in for a row.”
That was exactly what appeared in prospect. Only the rifles in the grip of the two dozen men about the jail kept the now thoroughly aroused mob from rushing forward. From yelling it had changed to low fierce murmurs that bespoke a more desperate mood.
“We ought to move the men somewhere else,” Steele Weir stated. “Pretty soon they’ll go for arms and then we’ll have real trouble.”
“I arranged while you were gone to transfer them to the county seat in the next county,” Madden said. “Telephoned the sheriff; he’s expecting them. To-morrow we can take them to Santa Fé, out of this part of the country till time for their trial. I placed the automobile your man brought Burkhardt in from the dam and another machine back in the alley; they are there now in the shadow.”
“Good. The quicker you take them, the better. They ought to be gagged when brought out. Get them here to the door; the men who are to drive should have the cars ready, engines going–––”
“That’s fixed. Your superintendent will drive one car and one of the engineers the other; they can slip back there at once. Six more of the guards are to go with us.”
“All right. You know whom you want. Station them here at the door to rush the prisoners back the instant you’re ready. Have them go round to the rear on the dark side of the jail; they should gain a good start before they’re discovered.”