All his nerve had come to the surface in that instant.

He was unharmed, for Jeff's sweeping arm had knocked aside the muzzle of the gun and the shot had entered the leg of one of the raiders.
"What'd you do that for, Jeff ?" groaned the injured man, sinking to the alkali dust.
But Moore was busy with the mad hotel keeper, having clinched with him, and now being engaged in taking away the shotgun, one barrel of which was still loaded.
"Stand back there, friends," warned Rafe Bodson, who still held his revolver in his right hand.

"We don't want to see any more of the party hurt." Jeff had the gun in a moment, despite the insane fury with which Ashby fought.
"Take care of this, Rafe," requested Jeff, turning over the gun, which Bodson received with his left hand.
Ashby, momentarily free, sprang at the new bolder of the weapon, but Moore tripped him and fell upon him.
The other men stood by as though fascinated, not interfering.

Perhaps they felt that their safety depended upon Ashby's being disarmed.
There was a short, sharp scuffle on the ground after which Moore rose, leaving the hotel man with his hands tied behind his back.
"And I request," remarked Moore, "that no gentleman present cut the knots that I have tied.

It'll be a favor to me to have Ashby left alone for the present." "Now, then, Rafe or Jeff," spoke the gambler, mustering up what remained of his courage, "since you two have taken charge of affairs, won't you be good enough to inform us what your pleasure is ?" "We're not in charge," retorted Bodson sullenly.