“You will stand by me?” implored Walter, eager for any help.
“Won't do no good! There's a crowd of them. You're in a bad box, young feller!”
“Have you got a pistol?”
“No.”
Then it flashed upon Walter that he still had the revolver which belonged to Dick Ranney.
“I will sell my life dearly!” thought Walter, “They shan't kill me without some resistance.”
“Open the door, or it'll be wuss for ye!” cried a rough voice.
The door was strong, but it did not long withstand the fierce attacks made upon it. Walter, by the light that came in through a crevice, saw it sway and gradually yield to the impetuous attacks of the mob.
“Here's the hoss thief!” exclaimed the leader, throwing the light into the cell occupied by the inebriate.
The tramp was alarmed and completely sobered by the terrible suggestion.