"I don't know as it's your affair," the man returned, sullenly. "We

ain't takin' no army orders at present, mister. We 're free-born

American citizens, an' ye better let us alone."

"That is not what I asked you," and Brant squared his shoulders, his

hands clinched. "My question was, Who is at the head of this outfit?

and I want an answer."

The spokesman looked around upon the others near him with a grin of

derision. "Oh, ye do, hey? Well, I reckon we are, if you must know.

Since Big Jim Larson got it in the shoulder this outfit right yere hes

bin doin' most of the brain work. So, if ye 've got anythin' ter say,

mister officer man, I reckon ye better spit it out yere ter me, an'

sorter relieve yer mind."

"Who are you?"

The fellow expectorated vigorously into the leaves under foot, and

drawing one hairy hand across his lips, flushed angrily to the

unexpected inquiry.

"Oh, tell him, Ben. What's the blame odds? He can't do ye no hurt."

The man's look became dogged. "I 'm Ben Colton, if it 'll do ye any

good to know."

"I thought I had seen you somewhere before," said Brant,

contemptuously, and then swept his glance about the circle. "A nice

leader of vigilantes you are, a fine representative of law and order, a

lovely specimen of the free-born American citizen! Men, do you happen

to know what sort of a cur you are following in this affair?"

"Oh, Ben's all right."

"What ye got against him, young feller?"

"Just this," and Brant squarely fronted the man, his voice ringing like

steel. "I 've seen mobs before to-day, and I 've dealt with them. I

'm not afraid of you or your whole outfit, and I 've got fighting men

to back me up. I never yet saw any mob which was n't led and incited

by some cowardly, revengeful rascal. Honest men get mixed up in such

affairs, but they are invariably inflamed by some low-down sneak with

an axe to grind. I confess I don't know all about this Colton, but I

know enough to say he is an army deserter, a liar, a dive-keeper, a

gambler, and, to my certain knowledge, the direct cause of the death of

three men, one a soldier of my troop. Now isn't he a sweet specimen to

lead in the avenging of a supposed crime?"

Whatever else Colton might have failed in, he was a man of action.

Like a flash his gun flew to the level, but was instantly knocked aside

by the grizzled old miner standing next him.




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