The sailors unload.
Eight men seize a sailor and land him back in the wagon.
Corkey sits on the wagon in front. He draws his revolver.
"Put up that gun!" cries Lockwin.
"Put up your pop, Corkey," cry a half-dozen friendly toughs.
"I hate to do it," says Corkey, "but I guess them fellers has got the drop on me."
The battle is over. The sailors are all in the wagon. They drive off toward another precinct.
Corkey is pronounced a white-flag man. It is recalled that he let a partner play in his faro bank and did not kill the traitor.
"Oh, Corkey ain't no good at all," say the bad men from Bitter Creek.
It heats their blood. They shake hands with Lockwin and deploy on the threatened precincts.