"Steve," said the sheriff in a quiet voice, "I've told you to get out of town before sun-up tomorrow; I've told you to keep out of the gin mills tonight. If you're here five minutes from now I'll kill you." With that the sheriff turned away. "Jim," he said to the bartender, "give me a cigar." But the move came near to being a fatal one for the little officer of the law. The instant his back was turned, one of the bad man's guns came out with a flash and his eyes blazing with terrible rage he was throwing it down on the man who had given him his final notice to quit. But he was not quick enough. "Bang!" The notorious outlaw's trusty "Colt" had spoken first, and the bad man's gun fell to the floor, as its owner uttered a howl of mingled rage and pain. He reached for his other gun with the left. "Hands up!" commanded the desperado in an even voice. "I reckon we don't 'low curs like you to shoot men in the back." Instantly the room was in an uproar. There were those present who, though they had not deemed it wise to express their sentiments in the presence of the sheriff, were Steve's cronies on the side. Their hands flew to their guns. "Hands up, every mother's son of you!" roared the desperado in a terrible voice that thrilled every man in the room. "Come over here," he said jerking his head to one side for the sheriff to join them, and while Jesse's eyes swept the evil faces about them the sheriff calmly walked over to where the two outlaws were standing, and took his place beside them. "Thanks, pard," he breathed. "You winged him. He won't use that hand again right away." A gun flashed at the far end of the room. Jesse's 44 barked viciously and the other's bullet buried itself in the wall behind him. But his assailant fared not so well. He sank to the floor with a dull red mark placed fairly between his eyes. Now guns crashed everywhere. The sheriff worked his weapons with the rapidity of a gatling gun. But Jesse and Frank fired now slowly. They were at a disadvantage. They were unable to distinguish friend from foe, while the sheriff knew every man there. So the two outlaws kept their sharp eyes dancing from face to face and at the least sign of treachery, the man went down with a bullet well placed somewhere in his anatomy. By now the battle was getting too hot for most of the miners and bad men and they took to the windows like a flock of frightened sheep. The temptation was too great for the notorious outlaw to resist. He was in a devil-may-care mood this night, and his recent exploits had whetted his appetite for more desperate deeds. He discharged a quick volley after the fleeing men, and though not once shooting to kill, inflicted wounds from which many an unfortunate fellow never recovered. The firing ceased. Jesse laughed harshly. The bar tender poked his head above the bar cautiously. "Gentlemen all finished?" he asked, peering suspiciously at the three men on the other side of the room.