Lex sat bolt upright, forgetting to clamber out of the roadster. Just then he was oblivious of the fact that a crowd was gathering on the sidewalk, and that Dot was the object of many eyes.
“Why, she told me he was dead!” he burst out. “I saw in the paper yesterday that he struck it rich. Where is he——”
The increasing buzz of voices around him made him glance up. He saw the throng of staring men. They packed the sidewalk, spilled into the street, partly surrounding the machine. There was something inimical in their manner, a bold severity in their scrutiny of Dot. Lex’s sudden display of astonishment and pleasure passed at sight of that menacing crowd. He sprang out of the car and threw open the door for the girl.
The hostility in the faces of the men had not been lost on Dot. It struck her instantly that this was not the elemental type of ruffian who had wrecked her home some hours before. These grim accusing individuals were substantial business men—the commercial backbone of Geerusalem. She grew pale.
Clinging to Lex’s arm, she entered the hotel, the crowd parting to let them pass. Once inside and with Mr. Merriman, the proprietor, hurrying toward them, she breathed easier. He beckoned them into a little writing room that adjoined the office.
“Is Mr. Huntington in camp?” he asked in low, excited tones.
Dot shook her head. “Get word to him not to show up here—to keep away,” he went on rapidly. “The report has got around that he’s been hiding Billy Gee, the outlaw. He is accused of being an accomplice, of being the relative or friend that the bandit was generally supposed to have on the plains. The camp is furious—ready to riot. They held a mass meeting last night and decided to——”
“That’s ridiculous, Mr. Merriman. It’s persecution,” cried Lex. “I just came from the ranch with Miss Huntington. I’ve been staying there. I know what I’m talking about. The report is a lie. Who circulated it?”
“I don’t know. But Jule Quintell acted as chairman of the meeting and did most of the speaking. Whether it’s true or not, the camp believes it. They’re backing Quintell to a man. They won’t stop at anything——”
“The beast!” broke in Dot, her eyes fiery with suppressed rage. “He sent a gang of his hoodlums out to our home last night, and they all but destroyed it, Mr. Merriman.” She turned to Sangerly. “Would you please send a machine out after Mrs. Liggs? We must not leave her alone out there. Tinnemaha Pete can look after—you know, the sick man. And do try to reach Sheriff Warburton at Blue Mud Spring. Mr. Merriman, have you a messenger we can trust? I’m going to have Quintell arrested.”