Two of the men were on their feet again and were now coming for him. One was swearing like a pirate.
They had heard the sliding of the coal as the scout climbed it; still, they could not see him.
“Surrender!” yelled the fellow of the sulphurous voice.
The scout had by this time unsettled the covering of the manhole. He now heaved it upward and aside; then quickly drew himself up through it.
A shot roared behind him, as the light from the opened manhole revealed to the men in the cellar what he was doing. But Fortune still favored him. He was outside now, unhurt, in an alley beside the saloon, the alley opening on the main street.
In another moment he was in the street itself.
He ceased to run as soon as he was out in the light. But he did not tarry, for he expected more shots to come singing after him.
The shooting had attracted attention, and the street was filling with men, who came pouring out of the saloon.
In their midst appeared Matt Shepard. Then Nomad came whooping on the scene, hastening from the alley in which he had been left to watch.