Their horses sprang away under the pressure of the cruel spurs.
Now Jesse and his companions thundered down on the crowd in the wake of the first line of fleeing desperadoes.
All at once a slight, wiry figure sprang out into the middle of the street.
"Halt! I know you, Jesse James."
But the desperado threw himself suddenly forward on the neck of his horse as the sheriff's bullets sang over him so close to his head that he could feel the hair on the top of his head, slightly pulled back by the sudden suction of air from the leaden pellets.
Both his revolvers flashed up on either side of the horse's neck. They barked in unison and the sheriff fell dead.
The outlaw's horse leaping over the body of the fallen officer of the law, sped away.
Jesse rose in his saddle and sent a volley of shots from his Winchester into the crowd in his rear. Then he was obliged to cease firing because of the fear of hitting one of his own men, whose bodies were now between him and the mob. The men had swung half way round in their saddles, reins on their horses' necks, and were pumping lead into the mad mob with deadly effect.
Jesse fired a signal shot high into the air.