“As sure you try those trick,” Tony went on, “I go see the Señor Kelsey”—the district attorney.
“You will, eh?” Gallup cried. “Like hell you will!”
His hand came up from under the table, a pistol, black and ominous, held rigidly. “You’ll tell nothin’!” he screamed as he leveled his gun at the Basque’s head.
A blood-curdling yell broke from Johnny’s lips as he saw the old man’s finger tighten on the trigger. Gallup jumped. His chair crashed over as he kicked it out of his way. The Basque’s eyes rolled until their whites showed.
What was that in the window—a dead man’s face?
“Hola! Virgen santa!” Madeiras shouted, and he made the sign of the cross. “Johnny! Johnny Dice!”
Gallup’s palsied hand pointed his gun at the apparition. Johnny contorted his face and laughed diabolically. The old man’s finger pressed the trigger and shot the window pane to bits, but the boy was gone. He had beaten the gun by an instant.
Charlie Paul had felt the boy’s legs stiffen. The next he knew Johnny was on the ground beside him. A moment later they were lost in the night.
When they found their ponies the boy permitted himself his first laugh. “That yell of mine,” he said, “wasn’t in the play. No, sir! Madeiras was up there. Gallup would have killed him in another second.”
“Good old Tony,” thought Johnny. Molly was safe! Madeiras was a hero. He was making a Judas of himself for his pal’s sake.