The sharp breathing of the spectators proved intense excitement.
Looking over the crowd, Jesse frowned.
"There are so many women 'round that we can't strip him," he exclaimed as he took Consollas by the collar of his coat and swung him to the side of the kettle. "We'll give him a thin coat next his skin and lay it on thick over his clothes. Loosen 'em, Sam; Hal, get some feathers."
Quickly were his commands obeyed.
When all was ready, the world famous desperado, masquerading as Tom Howard, mine owner, reached out his right hand and lifted a ladle full of the redolent tar from the cauldron.
Barely melted, it was not hot enough to more than sting as it touched the skin.
But as Fred saw the black liquid thrust toward his shirt whose collar Clell held open, his terror lent him the strength of a wild man.
Twisting and squirming, he made a grab for Jesse's beard.
With a furious oath, the great outlaw let go the lad's collar and struck him a blow in the face that sent him sprawling into the embers of the fire beneath the kettle.