While they were talking, I came down and stood in the doorway, my men following behind.
Old Mr. Gorsuch said, when I appeared, “They’ll come out, and get away!” and he came back to the gate.
I then said to him,—“You said you could and would take us. Now you have the chance.”
They were a cowardly-looking set of men.
Mr. Gorsuch said, “You can’t come out here.”
“Why?” said I. “This is my place. I pay rent for it. I’ll let you see if I can’t come out.”
“I don’t care if you do pay rent for it,” said he. “If you come out, I will give you the contents of these”—presenting, at the same time, two revolvers, one in each hand.
I said, “Old man, if you don’t go away, I will break your neck.”
I then walked up to where he stood his arms resting on the gate, trembling as if afflicted with palsy, and laid my hand on his shoulder, saying, “I have seen pistols before today.” Kline now came running up, and entreated Gorsuch to come away.
“No,” said the latter, “I will have my property, or go to hell.”