"If they are we'll get 'em back. Our friends here'll fix that up O.K."
The friends glared sullenly. They wanted blood, and lots of it. They had been stuck up and reviled, two of them had been wounded, and their self-respect had been grievously shattered. Vengeance would be very sweet. They wished for it with all the power of very evil hearts.
Loudon gathered up all the cartridge-belts and six-shooters and strung them together. He slung the bundle over his shoulder and addressed his captives.
"You fellahs stand on yore feet. Yo're goin' down street with us. Telescope, I'll wait for 'em outside. Send 'em out, will yuh."
Loudon stepped into the street. One by one the men came out and were lined up two by two in the middle of the street.
The last man was the sheriff. He did not shamble, and he did not keep his eyes on the ground in the manner of a broken man. It was evident that the virtue which passed with him for courage had returned. Even as Captain Burr had remarked, Sheriff Block was not as other men. He was a snake. Nothing but the bullet that killed him could have any effect upon his reptilian nature. This Loudon realized to the full.
"I'm watchin' yuh, Block," he said. "My hand ain't none shaky yet, even if I have been holdin' a gun on yuh all day."
Block shot him a venomous side glance and then looked straight ahead.
"Git along, boys," ordered Loudon. "We'll be right behind yuh."
With Loudon and Laguerre marching on the right and left flank rear respectively the procession trailed down the street till it arrived opposite Bill Lainey's hotel. There, in obedience to Loudon's sharp command, it halted. While Laguerre guarded the prisoners Loudon went to the corral. He found Lainey sitting on a wagon-box beside the gate, a double-barrelled shotgun across his knees. Lainey was excessively wide awake.