"Now, remember, friends, we're not calling for anything except that Jim Duff live up to the program he just published for himself--the square deal." Several murmurs of protest came from the other raiders.
"I reckon, Rafe, you and Jeff had better step back and let the rest of us handle this thing," advised one of the party.

"The pair of you are too chicken-livered for us." "It's a lie, as anyone in Paloma knows," Rafe retorted coolly.

"No--put up your shooters," as the hands of five or six men slid to their belts.
"There's no need of bad blood between us.

All I ask is for Jim Duff to step back out of this." "Am I the leader here or am I not ?" demanded Duff boldly.

"Wasn't it my interests that were first assailed by these fresh tenderfeet! Didn't you gentlemen come out to-night, to help me attend to my affair?
Didn't you turn also to avenge the blow that has been dealt these cubs to poor George Ashby's prosperity ?" At hearing himself so sympathetically referred to, Ashby threw himself forward, a short, double-barreled shotgun in his hands.
"Yes, you, get back, you white-livered cowards!" commanded Ashby hoarsely.