I'll shoot the livin' soul out o' any man that touches that door! This here is the jail, an' I'm the deppity, and, by -- --! you'll not have my prisoner!" "Quite right, me man," said a cool voice at Curly's side, and a hand fell on his shoulder as a tall form loomed up in the crowd.

"There's good matayrial in you, me bully.

Hould yer position, an' be sure that Batty's with you, at the laste.

Fair play's a jule, an' it's fair play we're goin' to have here." Backed by a crowd of men whose resolution was as firm as their own, these three fell back in front of the door.

Franklin felt his heart going fast, and knew that more was asked of him here than had ever been upon the field of battle; yet he was exultant at the discovery that he had no thought of wavering.