He swept the muzzle of one of these into the bartender's face menacingly, his eyes searching the maddened crowd.
"Wait a minute, you," he commanded sharply.

"I reckon I've got something to say 'bout this.

Put down that axe, Mike, or ye'll never draw another glass o' beer in this camp.

You know me, lads, an' I never draw except fer business.

Shut your mouth, Lacy; don't touch that gun, you fool! I am in charge here--this is my job; and if there is going to be any lynching done, it will be after you get me.