We need 'em in our business.

Now, just hop down an' deliver.

We're twenty to three." "You come forward at your own risk!" cried the sergeant, and Skelly, despite the numbers at his back, wavered.

He saw that the man who held the rifle aimed at his heart had nerves of steel, and he did not dare advance knowing that he would be shot at once from the saddle.

A victory won by Skelly's men with Skelly dead was no victory at all to Skelly.
The guerilla reined back his horse, and his men retreated with him.