"
"Half-way up the hill back of the hotel. You 'll find me somewhere in
front of it. This is a matter of life or death, so jump lively now!"
He drove in his spurs, and was off like the wind. A number of men were
in the street, all hurrying forward in the same direction, but he
dashed past them. These were miners mostly, eager to have a hand in
the man-hunt. Here and there a rider skurried along and joined in the
chase. Just beyond the hotel, half-way up the hill, rifles were
speaking irregularly, the white puffs of smoke blown quickly away by
the stiff breeze. Near the centre of this line of skirmishers a denser
cloud was beginning to rise in spirals. Brant, perceiving the largest
group of men gathered just before him, rode straight toward them. The
crowd scattered slightly at his rapid approach, but promptly closed in
again as he drew up his horse with taut rein. He looked down into
rough, bearded faces. Clearly enough these men were in no fit spirit
for peace-making.
"You damn fool!" roared one, hoarsely, his gun poised as if in threat,
"what do you mean by riding us down like that? Do you own this
country?"
Brant flung himself from the saddle and strode in front of the fellow.
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