“There is a train in an hour and thirty minutes,” replied the Attorney General. He showed the colour of a sheet, but his upper lip was stiffer than was that of his companion, which twitched visibly. “Can you put us aboard?” “Now I don’t see why not,” returned Mr. Masterson. “Don’t see why not!” exclaimed the President of the Prohibition League; “don’t see why not! You hear those murderers outside, and you don’t see why not!” It should be mentioned in the gentleman’s defence that his nerves were a-jangle. “Don’t see why not!” he murmured, sinking back as a deeper roar came from without. “Don’t let the racket outside disturb you,” said Mr. Masterson in a reassuring tone. “We’ll manage to get that outfit back in its corral.” “But do you guarantee our safety?” gasped the other. “As to that,” returned Mr. Masterson, “you gentlemen understand that I am not issuing life insurance. What I say is this: Whoever gets you will have to go over me to make the play.” Mr. Masterson and Mr. Wright conversed apart. There was no haste; the mob would confine itself to threats and curses while they remained in the house. “Perhaps I’d better give ’em a talk, Bob,” said Mr. Masterson, at the close of their confab. “There are two things to do. We must get rid of Bear Creek. And we must let it look like the rest of ’em had taken a trick. I think I’ll suggest that we make our visitors give us those temperance speeches. They won’t want to do it; and if we let the boys sort o’ compel them to be eloquent, they’ll most likely quit satisfied. If we don’t do something of the kind, it’s my opinion they’ll take a shot at us before ever we place these shuddering strangers on the train.” “Do what you reckon best,” returned Mr. Wright. “I’ll back your game.” Mr. Masterson opened the front door and, with Mr. Wright, stepped forth. He considered the mob a moment with a quiet eye, and then raised his hand as if to invite attention. “Gentlemen,” said he, “if I talk to you, it’s on your account. The people inside, in whose honour you’ve assembled, intend to board the first train for the East.” “Board nothin’! Let’s swing ’em off!” cried a cowboy from south of the river. He was carrying his lariat in his hand; as he spoke he whirled the loop about his head, knocking off the sombreros of those nearest him. “Let’s swing ’em off!” he shouted. “I’ll swing you off, if you don’t give that rope a rest!” returned an irate one, unhatted, and with that he collared the child of cows, and threw him backward into the press. “Go on, Bat,” said this auxiliary, having abated the cowboy and his rope; “give us the layout of your little game.”