Some one was knocking on the front door.
“Come out, Langley.”
It was Slim Caldwell’s voice, hoarse with emotion.
“Sh-h-h-h!” warned Angel.
“Don’t play ’possum,” warned Slim. “The place is surrounded. We found Angel McCoy’s horse, and we know he’s in there. Bring him out, Jim. And another thing; if that girl is harmed, we’ll hang every damned one of yuh.”
“Yuh see!” whispered Fohl bitterly. “They’ve got all of us, Angel. Damn yore skin, I’d like to kill you.”
“Let me go out,” begged Lila.
Angel laughed softly. He still had her wrist.
Roper Briggs was trying to sing.
“... for I’m a poo-o-o-or cowboy and I know I’ve done wrong. Beat the drum slowly and play the fi-i-ife slowly; play the dead march as you bear me alo-o-o-ong.”