by a baffling personification of sanity and finds itself all at once thrown back upon itself. Original was quick to take advantage of it. He held up his left hand above his head.
"Boys, you 're goin' to let this man go. You 're goin' turn him over to me, and I promise he goes out of town on to-night's stage."
Quick reflexes played across the faces in the forefront of the wave of men: First dazed beginnings of comprehension, then sneering defiance. From the back of the mob came impatient surges forward, calls to know what was up, why somebody up yonder was stopping. Original continued to speak without passion, almost without emphasis.
"Let me tell you why you 're goin' turn this man over to me on the promise he goes out to-night. It s because he's a pore fool an' ought n't to be runnin' loose in this man's town. It 's because he has n't got the savvy the Lord gives to a yearlin' steer; because he 's no more accountable than a jack what's eaten loco weed. You boys would n't go for to cat-drag a half-wit out of an asylum."
"He 's a lawyer representin' your dam'd cattle interests come here to hocus-pocus the Killer out of a noose, an' you know it, Blunt!"
