The speaker was down the steps in two leaps, and the deputies drew aside to let him pass out. Civic pride, above all, civic ambition, had been touched to the quick. A hoarse roar followed the speech, and cries for Bill grew frantic. Mizzoo, afraid to unlock the door, stared at Wilfred in perplexity. "I told you they had civilization on the brain," he muttered. "The old times are past. I daresn't make a move toward that lock." "Drop the keys behind you--I'll get 'em," Wilfred murmured. "Step a little forward. Say something to 'em." "Ain't got nothing to say," growled Mizzoo, glaring at the mob. "These boys are in the right of it, that's how I feel--cuss that obstinate old bobcat! it's his own fault if they string him up." "Here they come!" Wilfred exclaimed. "Steady now, old Mizzoo--we've whipped packs of wolves before today--coyotes crazy with hunger--big gray loafers in the rocks--eh, Mizzoo?" He shouted to the deputies who had been pushed against the railing: "Give it to 'em, boys!" But the deputies did not fire, and the mob, though chafing with mad impatience, did not advance. It was a single figure that swept up the steps, unobstructed, aided, indeed, by the mass of packed men in the street--a figure slight and erect, tingling with the necessity of action to which every vein and muscle responded, tingling so vitally, so electrically, that the crowd also tingled, not understanding, but none the less thrilled. "Lahoma!" Wilfred was at her side. "You here!" "Yes, I'm here," she returned breathlessly, her face flaming with excitement. "I'm going to talk to these people--let me have that--" She took the revolver from his unresisting hand, uncocked it, and slipped it into her bosom. Then she faced the mob and held up her empty hand. CHAPTER XXIII FACING THE MOB It was the first time Lahoma had ever faced an audience larger than that composed of Brick and Bill and Willock, for in the city she had been content to play an unobtrusive part, listening to others, commenting inwardly. Speech was now but a mode of action, and in her effort to turn the sentiment of the mob, she sought not for words but emotions. Bill's life was at stake. What could she say to make them Bill's friends? After her uplifted hand had brought tense silence, she stood at a loss, her eyes big with the appeal her tongue refused to utter.