Around the unsuspecting outlaws was an admiring gallery of men and women, the latter predominating. Forcing his way through them till he reached the horses, the elder Consollas approached Jesse's, eyeing the splendid creature critically. Several acquaintances spoke to him, but without noticing them, he opened the mare's mouth and looked at her teeth. Summoning an angry expression, the storekeeper turned to the bandits and demanded: "Where did you get that roan?" Taken aback by the abruptness of the question, the great outlaw stared at his interrogator blankly. "Afraid to tell, eh?" snarled the storekeeper. "I don't wonder." Amazed at the words, three or four of the onlookers asked: "What's the trouble? Anything wrong?" "_Wrong?_ Well, rather. That's my roan mare, Betty! She was stolen from my pasture last night!" CHAPTER III. THE PLOT PROVES A BOOMERANG. No greater consternation could have been caused among the witnesses to the accusation had a bomb exploded in their midst. Aghast at the seriousness of the charge, the men and women fell back, glancing from the outlaws to Consollas. Then angry murmurs rose from their throats and several of the men stepped forward, menacingly, while from those at the rear of the crowd broke the cry: "Horse thieves! Horse thieves!" In a twinkling, the shout was taken up by those passing till it echoed from one end of the campground to the other. Seizing ropes and guns, men rushed from their tents, eager to take a hand in the execution of the miscreants. And in less time than it takes to tell it, the outlaws were surrounded by a hostile, threatening mob. Realizing that the moments were crucial, Jesse sprang at his accuser, clutching him by the throat and shook him as a terrier does a rat. "You lie--and you know you lie!" he thundered. "That mare was bought in Kansas City and I can prove it. "What your reason is for accusing me, I don't know. But I _do_ know you've got to tell these people you lied when you said the mare was yours! Now speak up lively!" And with a parting shake, he released Consollas' throat that he might obey. But instead, the moment the storekeeper felt the terrible grip about his neck relax, he yelled: "Help! Help! It's my m--" With a look of terrible fury as he heard the words, the famous desperado's powerful right shot out, driving the false utterance back into Consollas' mouth as it struck him full in the face, and sent him to the ground like a log. "Seize him! Seize him!" yelled the mob, surging forward as the merchant fell. But the great outlaw was ready for them. Whipping out his trusty "Colts," he cried: "The first man who steps into this clearing about me will pay for his rashness with his life!" The situation was grave. The storekeeper had a reputation for probity and many an one of the sojourners at the Springs knew that he possessed a roan mare.