“Do it, Mr. Officer,” urged several men in the crowd.
The constable stepped forward as if to make the arrest, but the man who had spoken against any shooting, offering to do it himself, if any was done, stepped in front of him.
He was an alert looking fellow, with a businesslike air which seemed to proclaim that he would be as good as his word.
“You heard what I said about doing the shooting myself if any was started,” he said, with a drawl. “I’m from Missouri and you’ve got to show me.”
“What kind of a bluff is this, anyway?” demanded the constable, but he put up his weapon, as if he had decided not to call the bluff at that time.
“I’m looking for that steak,” suggested Alex, wrinkling his nose. “When does it come?”
“I’m Buck Eldred,” announced the man with a businesslike air, “and I know this man,” pointing to the giant of a man, with a smile on a clean-cut face, “just as well as if I had helped wheel the dirt to make him. Anybody in the crowd that knows Buck Eldred?”
No one seemed to know Buck Eldred, and the chances for a battle seemed very good. At that moment, however, an interruption took place which put an entirely different face on the incident.
A posse of officers came in from the East with the man who had robbed the bank in custody.
Instantly there was a friendly sentiment, and the men who had denounced the boys in savage terms could not do enough for them.