“I have nothing more to say. Pete Cable was a murderer, tried and convicted as such. To save my own life, I will certainly not turn him loose,” he said quietly.
“Judge, be sensible. We will surely hang you, if you refuse, and there are some things worse than death. Things that make a man want to die, make him beg for death,” Bill Anderson said calmly.
The judge shuddered. Anderson’s very calmness was far more terrifying than the Toad’s animallike rage. He knew these men were not bluffing, and he had no hope that his friends outside would be able to save him. Yet never for a moment did he consider weakening. He would not turn a beast like Pete Cable loose on the world, in order to save his own life. He summoned his courage to face the ordeal and remained silent.
The three at the table waited, while the judge could hear his own heart pound. At last the Toad beckoned to two men leaning against the wall.
“Sam, suppose you show the judge what the Apaches do to prisoners. Don’t hurt his right hand; he’ll need that to sign a release. Start easy, but show what you can do,” the Toad said.
One of the men, with a pockmarked face, started around the table toward the judge. In spite of himself the judge shivered, then he clenched his hands and waited for what was to come.
“Dios!” one of the guards at the door cried.
Every one swung about to face the door.
Outside there came a chorus of shrill cries, the thumping of horses’ hoofs, and the rumbling of a loaded wagon running wild downhill. For a fraction of a second the men at the table were still; they started to rise, then——
Straight through the window there shot a figure. At first it looked to the judge like some huge cat, for its eyes were flaming pools of fire. For an instant it seemed to remain suspended in the air. As it started to fall toward the floor, jagged streams of fire leaped from two big Colts. One of the guards at the door cried out and toppled from his platform.