“Then, do what I tell ye!” roared the desperado leader. “Git yer rifle, and put a bullet through this carrion, and show you’re a man, with the nerve of a man.”
Pool Clayton whitened still more, and trembled visibly.
The outlaws pressed close about him, staring into his face, noting this sign of what they considered weakness and cowardice.
Snaky Pete’s eyes glittered like the eyes of the basilisk.
“Do ye hear me?” he yelled.
Clayton half turned about, as if he intended to obey; then stopped.
“I—I can’t do it!” he gasped. “Don’t ask me to.”
Snaky Pete came closer to him, his huge first doubled.
“Do you obey orders?” he shouted.
“Yes—but——”