Now, Mr.Beasley, won't you follow with further remarks in this same line ?" Mr.Beasley looked more or less reluctant, but he presently complied with Reade's request.

Then Tom called upon another prominent citizen of Paloma in the crowd for a speech.
"Let the coyotes go--until daylight," was the final verdict of the crowd, though there was an ominous note in the expressed decision.
In stony silence the crowd now parted to let Jim Duff and his fellows go away.
Within sixty seconds the last of them had run the gauntlet of contempt and vanished.
"Someone told me," scoffed Beasley, "that a gambler is a man of courage, polish, brains and good manners.

I reckon Jim Duff isn't a real gambler, then." "Yes, he is!" shouted another.

"He's one of the real kind--sometimes smooth, but always bound to fatten on the money that belongs to other men." "Jim can leave town, I reckon," grimly declared another old settler.

"We have savings banks these days, and we don't need gamblers to carry our money for us." "Speech, Reade! Speech!" insisted Mr.Beasley good-humoredly.
From some mysterious place a barrel was passed along from hand to hand.
It was set down before the young chief engineer, and ready hands hoisted him to the upturned end of the barrel.
"Speech!" roared a thousand voices.
Tom, grinning good-humoredly, then waved his arms as though to still the tumult of voices.