Mack Shell went limping away in the rain. Streak tried to think of some way to halt the mob, but his mind kept hammering: “You’re free again, free again, free again! You’re not Streak Malone--you’re Keith Delmar. The law knows you didn’t kill your step-father. You’re free again!” Streak drew a deep breath and went across the street. Smoke still billowed up from the heaps of hot ashes as the rain hissed down. Streak was hatless, bleeding from several cuts on his face. * * * * * He stopped in front of the Silver Dollar. A crowd had gathered in there, but they were not drinking or gambling. Streak shoved his way through the crowd. There was Zero Brant, Conchita, El Chuchilla, Monk Moore and others. Between them and the crowd was Joe East, the young cowboy from Shell’s ranch. Joe had no gun, and he had very few clothes. Dirty, torn, bleeding, he stood there accusing Zero Brant, who hunched forward, his evil, little eyes watching Joe East. As Streak shoved forward, he heard Joe say hoarsely: “You sent one of yore men into the Eureka to start that fight, Brant, you dirty murderer, and they’re comin’ to get yuh. If I had a gun, I’d shoot out yore black heart myself.” Brant, still hunched, his huge hands opening and closing, came slowly toward Joe East. It was like a gorilla attacking a pigmy. Joe didn’t move. He seemed incapable of movement. But before Brant could reach him, Streak Malone stepped out from the crowd and walked between them. Zero Brant stopped as he considered this new enemy, and his eyes blinked. A sudden rage seemed to strike him. His brow furrowed, bringing his brows down over his eyes. There was some sort of a commotion behind Streak, and he heard Clare’s voice scream: “The Mark of Cain!” Streak leaned forward, staring at Brant, who had lifted his head. Those scars on his forehead, when pulled down in that bestial scowl made a perfect letter M in the middle of his sloping forehead. It was then that Brant dived at Streak, trying to clutch him in his powerful hands. But Streak was watching and sidestepped quickly, bumping into a man to his left, and Brant almost went into the crowd. Streak suddenly realized his danger and reached for his gun, but the man he had bumped into had taken it. Brant had swung around, aimed a powerful smash at Streak’s head, which he barely avoided. Then he smashed Brant full in the face with a right hand that would have knocked most men down, but it only drove Brant’s head back momentarily. Brant was cut and bleeding now. Men jostled Streak from behind, and he realized that the odds were heavily against him. Then Zero Brant came with a bull-like rush, driving Streak against the crowd, but Streak managed to uppercut him with rights and lefts, sending him off balance. A man threw a shoulder into Streak’s back, sending him stumbling ahead, but he recovered and faced Brant again.