"Get a doctor first," Lieutenant Prescott ordered, when they had Jack Blick safely inside the station house. A physician was on hand inside of two minutes. He washed and dressed the rascal's wounds. Then a blacksmith was sent for, and others brought portable forge and bellows. An "Oregon boot" was shaped and riveted to Blick's lower left leg, and a red-hot piece of iron welded on over the rivets. This "Oregon boot" is a famous device in some western states. It is simply an extremely heavy cylinder of iron. The prisoner who wears it can barely draw his left foot along. Running would be out of the question. Nor, when the blacksmith's job was done, could Blick, even had he been provided with ordinary tools, have succeeded in getting that "boot" off his leg in less than four hours. The day policeman of Mason City, who was also chief of the "force," swore in six armed citizens as special policemen. They were to watch the prisoner day and night until other officers arrived to take him away to stand trial. "I guess you'll keep now, won't you, Blick?" asked Lieutenant Prescott, smiling in at the prisoner, who lay on a bench behind the barred door of a cell, his guards just outside. "You think you got me, don't you?" jeered Jack Blick harshly. "I think we did," the young Army officer agreed, smilingly. "Have you any doubts, my man?" "It took three of you to do it, and if there'd been only two of you, I'd have gotten away," snarled the desperado. "I'll admit that that is probably true," assented Prescott, as smiling as ever. "Blick, you're a nervy, deadly man. But fellows of your class always ought to bear in mind that the community is bigger than any one man can possibly be. You're caged now, and you have always been bound to be, sooner or later." "Perhaps you feel pretty big now?" sneered Jack Blick. "I can't say that I do," rejoined Lieutenant Prescott coolly. "As nearly as I can judge, I feel just about as big as I did yesterday, or the day before. How about you, men?" "I know very well that I felt a lot bigger the day I first stepped into the uniform than I do now," laughed Soldier Hal. "I always feel largest on pay-day," smiled Private Noll Terry. "And this is a long way from pay-day." "I've got friends in this town. Friends of my own kind," broke in Jack Blick harshly. "Don't forget that." "Why?" queried Lieutenant Dick Prescott. "Because," snarled Blick, showing his teeth, "you've been marked by my friends already. You won't get out of town and back to camp alive!" CHAPTER XVI CAPTAIN CORTLAND "MAKES A SPEECH" "You heard Blick's declaration, didn't you?" questioned Lieutenant Prescott, with a smile. He had halted on the sidewalk and was gazing at his soldier boys. "That we wouldn't get out of town alive, sir?" asked Hal Overton.