But he got no further. Swinging sideways from the waist, he was only just in time, for once more a pistol flashed among the chairs; and when another man loosed his hold Johnston roared, “Let her go!”
The head of the beam went forward; we followed it with a yell. There was a crash of splintered redwood, and my axe clove a chair. Then shouting men were scrambling over the remnants of the bar, while just what happened during the next few moments I do not remember, except that there was a great destruction of property, and presently I halted breathless, while the leader of the vanquished, who were hemmed in a corner, raised his hand.
“We’re corralled, and give up,” he said. “Here’s Hemlock Jim—not much good to any one by the look of him. What are you going to do with us?”
“Are those men badly hurt?” asked Johnston.
“Not much,” some one answered. “Pete’s drilled clean through the upper arm; it missed the artery, and the ball just ripped my leg.”
“Well, we’ll settle about Jim afterward; it’s surgical assistance he wants first. As to the rest of you, he led you into this, and we’ll let you go on two conditions—you subscribe a dollar each to Miss Marvin’s society and sign the pledge.”
There was a burst of laughter, in which even some of the vanquished joined sheepishly; but as they filed past between a guard armed with shovels and empty bottles Johnston saw that they filled their names into the book, and duly handed each his ticket, while I regret to say that Harry’s 149 selection was daringly appropriate, as with full musical honors he played them out.
“There’s a hat at the door!” said Johnston, “you can put your dollars in. You have spent an exciting evening, and must pay for your fun.” And presently that hat overflowed with money, while Lee, with his Ontario stalwarts, did huge execution with a shovel among such bottles as remained unwrecked behind the bar. We placed Hemlock Jim on a stretcher, groaning distressfully, while our two wounded declared themselves fit to walk, and before we marched off in triumph to the camp Johnston raised his hat as he placed a heavy package of silver in Miss Marvin’s hand.
“I’ve no doubt your organization can make a good use of this,” he said. “It’s also a tribute to your own bravery. I’ll leave you half a dozen men who’ll camp in the road opposite your lodgings, and see you safely back to the main line to-morrow. They’re most sober Calvinists, with convictions of the Cromwellian kind, and I don’t think any of our late disturbers will care to interfere with them.”
When we approached the tents, chanting weird songs of victory, the surveyor met us, and in answer to his questions Johnston laughed.