It was understood that the sheriff should make a perfunctory defense against the mob in order to “square” him with the voters at the election soon to be held. But the word had been quietly passed that the bullets of the prison guards would be fired over the heads of the attackers. This assurance lent an added braggadocio to the Dutch courage of the lynchers. Many of them who would otherwise have hung back distinguished themselves by the enthusiasm which they displayed. Bannister himself generaled the affair, detailing squads to batter down the outer door, to guard every side of the prison, and to overpower the sheriff’s guard. That official, according to programme, appeared at a window and made a little speech, declaring his intention of performing his duty at whatever cost. He was hooted down with jeers and laughter, and immediately the attack commenced. The yells of the attackers mingled with the sound of the axe-blows and the report of revolvers from inside the building. Among those nearest to the door being battered down were Denver and the few men he had with him. His plan offered merely a forlorn hope. It was that in the first scramble to get in after the way was opened he and his friends might push up the stairs in the van, and hold the corridor for as long as they could against the furious mob. It took less than a quarter of an hour to batter down the door, and among the first of those who sprang across the threshold were Denver, Missou, Frisco and their allies. While others stopped to overpower the struggling deputies according to the arranged farce, they hurried upstairs and discovered the cell in which their friends were fastened. Frisco passed a revolver through the grating to McWilliams, and another to Bannister. “Haven’t got the keys, so I can’t let y’u out, old hoss,” he told the foreman. “But mebbe y’u won’t feel so lonesome with these little toys to play with.” Meanwhile Denver, a young giant of seventy-six inches, held the head of the stairs, with four stalwart plainsmen back of him. The rush of many feet came up pell-mell, and he flung the leaders back on those behind. “Hold on there. This isn’t a free-lunch counter. Don’t you see we’re crowded up here already?” “What’s eating you? Whyfor, can’t we come?” growled one of the foremost nursing an injured nose. “I’ve just explained to you, son, that it’s crowded. Folks are prevalent enough up here right now. Send up that bunch of keys and we’ll bring your meat to you fast enough.” “What’s that? What’s that?” The outlaw chief pushed his way through the dense mob at the door and reached the stairway. “He won’t let us up,” growled one of them. “Who won’t?” demanded Bannister sharply, and at once came leaping up the stairs. “Nothing doing,” drawled Frisco, and tossed him over the railing on to the heads of his followers below. They carried Bannister into the open air, for his head had struck the newel-post in his descent. This gave the defense a few minutes respite.