As the reporter paused and turned, hearing his name, there was a second report of the marshal's revolver and Russell's suit case flew from his hand, ripped and torn ragged by a forty-four bullet.
The smoke of the explosion puffed upward and, where it had been, the marshal saw Ned Napier's automatic magazine revolver under his nose.
The boy was white with indignation. The possible serious results that might come to him and his plans meant nothing in his anger at such a dastardly act.
"It isn't a Colt," he said with dry lips, "but, if you make another move like that it's got ten shots and they come out all together."
CHAPTER XIII
QUICK JUSTICE IN THE WEST
Jack Jellup, marshal and "bad man," was never more surprised in his life. But Jack was no fool, and something in Ned Napier's eyes made the westerner conclude instantly that he had unexpectedly and unquestionably "barked up the wrong tree." For a few moments the marshal and the young aeronaut stood facing each other and then Jellup sneered:
"Do you reckon you'd better run this town?"
"No, nor you," quietly answered Ned, "and if that's the way you are going to do it you can settle with me right now. I'm going to stand on my rights."