“Let them out!” The command came high and clear. McMasters laid a hand on Hickok’s arm. “Let them get out on the street!” He had recognized, as one of the three men, the man he had come so far to meet—his arch enemy Rudabaugh. But he did not fire. Hickok stayed his hand. He did not look toward the rear of the room, now cleared, for he knew his work there was done. He never was known to look at the effect of any shot he ever made; he always knew. There stood now at his side a man as dangerous as himself. But the two best pistol men on all that wild border now dared not shoot, had they so desired, for the men had shrugged down below the level of the crowd. “That’s Rudabaugh in front!” called McMasters. “Don’t shoot him! Let him alone! Let him get out!” He himself began to edge toward the door, Wild Bill pushing through the crowd at his elbow. The Del Sol men for the time were jostled back. It was Rudabaugh who had sought to end at any cost the life of his worst enemy, Dan McMasters. He had missed, across the room, but now intended to kill McMasters at short range. But always some other man intervened, caught down his arm. He made a sudden last plan—often a deadly one—stepped outside the door and waited for his man to follow—an old border trick which very often worked. The shooter would be in the darkness, his target in the light. But the wily bandit leader had reckoned ill with the men he now was meeting. Even as he passed over the threshold Hickok suddenly fired over McMasters’ shoulder. His bullet struck the barrel of Rudabaugh’s revolver and hurled it from his hand. An instant later the two officers broke out the door. Rudabaugh, wringing his hand, was stooping for his revolver, his two companions making off at top speed in the moonlight. As for the latter, they both fell face forward, shot through the back. Neither of their two executioners had time to look at them. Both covered Rudabaugh as he half rose. “Don’t shoot!” cried McMasters once more. “Leave him to me!” An instant later and he was locked in grips with the ruffian he had sought so long to meet in precisely this fashion. Hickok stood back, his elbows at the door jamb, a revolver in either hand. “Easy, gentlemen!” said he. “Easy now! Don’t come out! Just stay right where you are!” Every man who heard heeded the advice of Wild Bill and set back his shoulders against the thrust behind him.