“Start Jim Duff on his travels now!” demanded one angry voice.
“By the Tree & Rope Short Line!” proposed another voice.
Jim was caught and held, despite his straggles. Active hands swarmed over his clothing, seeking for weapons.
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” appealed Tom sturdily, making his resonant voice travel far over the heads of the throng. “Will you honor me with your attention for three or four minutes?”
“Yep!” shouted back one voice.
“You bet!” came another voice.
“Go ahead and spout, Reade. We'll have the hanging, right after!”
There was nothing jovial in these responses. Tom Reade knew men well enough to recognize this fact. Moreover, Tom knew the plain, unvarnished, honest and deadly-in-earnest men of these south-western plains well enough to know the genuine fury of the crowd.
Arizona and New Mexico have long been held up as states where violence and lynch law prevail. The truth is that Arizona and New Mexico have no more lynchings than do many of the older states. An Arizona lynching can only follow an upheaval of public sentiment, when honest men are angered at having their fair fame sullied by the acts of blackguards.
“Friends,” Tom went on, as soon as he could secure silence, “I am a newcomer among you. I have no right to tell you how to conduct your affairs, and I am not going to make that mistake. What you may do with Jim Duff, what you may do with others who damage the fair name of your town, is none of my business. For myself I want no revenge on these rascals. They have already been handled with much more roughness than they had time to show to me. I am satisfied to call the matter even.”