Ryker was dazed, blinded. He clawed under his coat trying to draw a big Colt gun before Cutter sprang across the railing and grasped him. He swung Ryker around, talking swiftly. He handed Ryker a handkerchief to mop off the blood; and the prosecutor of Black Horse County leaned against his own table.
The judge hammered wildly on his table, while the cowboys in the audience whooped with joy. This was the first bit of action they had seen. Roaring talked earnestly with Pete, who nodded in agreement. Roaring smiled with evident satisfaction, and there was a ghost of a smile on the face of the old judge.
“By golly!” roared the voice of Lovely Lucas from the back of the room. “That’s the first time I ever saw a half-breed git the best of anythin’ in a courtroom!”
“Turn ’em loose, and I’ll take the breed for forty dollars, even money!” boomed Mark Clayton, of the Big 4.
The old judge rapped for order.
“Cease this disturbance, or I’ll have the sheriff clear the court!”
“You better let well enough alone,” said Hank Pitts. “If Roarin’ Rigby lets loose of Pete, Ryker loses his scalp.”
Hank’s sally brought a laugh that the judge was unable to check. Dawn was leaning forward on the table, crying. Ryker was angry. He tried to arrange his collar, but found that Pete had torn out the button-hole. He finally took it off, exposing about eight inches of thin neck.
Wind River Jim came from the juryroom, closing the door behind him. The judge rapped again for silence.
“They’ve made up their minds, Judge,” said Wind River.