Jim Allen was still thirty feet away from them when he saw a flash of a hand and knew that Baldy had gone for his gun. As his hand flew down to his own weapons he knew that Jack had beaten Baldy to the draw. The hands of the five were clawing at their guns when Jim Allen opened fire on them. Surprised, the nearest ones attempted to turn their guns on the little outlaw. A continuous stream of fire came from his guns. The reports were blended into one, and the five men melted as if caught by a machine gun.
Blue smoke swirled in rings; the glasses and bottles on the bar danced and crashed to the floor from the heavy concussion of many Colts. The roar of the reports was deafening. Then, as quickly as it had commenced, it was ended.
Then silence—complete.
Jim-twin Allen stood staring through the swirling smoke—stared. With a cry he ran forward. Jack Allen lay in a crumpled heap against the wall. Swiftly Jim examined him and gave a cry of relief when he saw that his brother was only creased. A bullet had made a slight furrow across the top of the sheriff’s head.
Slowly the Wolf rose to his feet and faced the men who were crawling out from behind the bar, from beneath tables. As he stood there he pressed fresh shells into his guns and then dropped them back into their holsters.
“Jack ain’t hurt bad. When he comes to, I want you gents to tell him somethin’. The Blue Sky Mine ain’t no good—Baldy was gettin’ his ore by stealin’ from other mines. Steve Brandon was in it; so was Bill Tucker an’ a gent in Black Rock, called Ed Tucker—reckon he was Bill’s brother. Tucker an’ Brandon gets scared of Baldy an’ sends for Jack. They fixes things so that Jack will tackle Baldy an’ rub him out. They has men waitin’ to get Jack, so he can’t dig no deeper an’ mebbe go after them!”
Murmurs swept the crowd—a surge of resentment against such treachery. Then the murmurs died away and the men stared past Jim Allen. He turned and saw that Jack had struggled to his feet and was leaning weakly against the wall.
“These here folks will tell yuh all about it. So long, Jack!” Jim Allen cried and moved slowly toward the door.
“Come back here! Yuh’re goin’ to jail for robbin’ the United States mail!”
Jack was covering Jim with a big Colt. Jim stared at him and then shook his head and laughed.