Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1907-08-09
CHAPTER Xxx.


Hampton staggered blindly to his
feet, looking down on the motionless
body. For a moment the room ap-
reared to swim before his eyes, and
Re clutched at the overturned table
for support. Then, as his senses re-
turned. he perceived the figures OF q
number of men jamming the narrow
doorway, and became aware of their
loud. excited voices. Back to his be-
numbed brain there came with rush
the whole scene, the desperation of
his present situation. He had been
found alone with the dead man. Those
men, when they came surging in at
tracted by the noise of strife, had
found him lying on Slavin, his hand
J clutching the knife-hilt. He ran his
ewes over their Mortified faces. and
knew instantly they held him the muir
derer.
The shock Of this discovery steadied
/ him. He realized the meaning, the
dread, terrible meaning. for he knew
the west, its fierce, implacable spirit
of vengeance, it's merciless code OF
lynch-faw The vigilantes OF the min
ing camps were to him an old story;
more than once he had witnessed
their work, been cognizant of their
power. This was no time to parley or
to hesitate. He, grabbed the loaded
revolver lying upon the floor, and
swung Slavin's discarded belt across
his shoulder.
Stand aside, gentlemen" he COM
manded. Step back, and let me
pass!"
They obeyed. He swept them with
watchful eyes, stepped past and slam
med the door behind him. Men were
already beginning to pour into the sa-
loon, uncertain yet of the facts, and
shouting questions to each other. To
tally ignoring these, Hampton thrust
himself recklessly through the crowd.
Halfway down the broad steps Buck
Mason faced him, in shirt sleeves, his
head uncovered, an ugly as" in his
uplifted hand. Just an instant the
eyes of the two men met, neither
doubted the grim purpose of the other.
you've got ter do it, Bob, an
nounced the marshall, shortly, dead
er alive"
Hampton never hesitated. I'm sor-
ry / met you. l don't want to get
anybody else mixed up in this fuss.
If you'll promise me chance for my
life, Buck, I'll throw up my hands.
But prefer bullet to mob
The little marshal was sandy-haired,
freckle-faced, and all nerve. The
crowd damned within the Occidental
had already turned and were surging
toward the door. Hampton knew from
long experience what this meant;
these were the quickly infamed CO.
horts of Judge Lynch-they would act
first, and reflect later His square
jaws set like trap.
"All right, Bob" said the marshal.
You're my prisoner, and there'H be
one hell of fight afore them lads
git We. There's a chance left-leg 1t
after me-"
Just as the mob surged out OF the
Occidental, cursing and struggling,
the two sprang forward and dashed
into the narrow space between the
livery stable and the hotel. Motfa.
CHANGED to be in the passageway, and
pausing to ask no questions, Mason
promptly landed that gentleman OH
the back of his head In a pile OF dis
carded tin cans, and kicked viciously
at q yellow dog which ventured To
snap at them as they swept past. Be
hind arose volley Of curses, the thud
of feet, an occasional voice roaring
out orders, and sharp spat OF re
volver shots. One ball plugged into
the siding of the hotel, and second
thew spit Of sand into their lower
ed faces, but neither man glanced
back They were running for their
lives now, racing for fair chance 10
turn at bay and fight, their sole hope
the steep, rugged hill in their front
Hampton began to understand the
purpose OF his companion, the quick,
unerring instinct which had led him
to select the one suitable spot where
the successful waging OF. battle