family had feuded. The man had been wounded several times before, but there was only my say-so that the Indians had done it. The pitch-pine slivers was Apache work, nobody denied that. But the way the talk was going made it seem as if I'd taken advantage of Apache trouble to kill an old enemy, and a thing like that is hard to down.
Billy Higgins had a sight of friends around Tucson, and nobody there knew me except by name. A good part of the talk going around was carried on by Lieutenant Davis, who believed whatever Laura told him.
Two days passed slowly, and I just sat on my cot, and played checkers with the jailer. One thing had changed. That jailer never went off and left me alone any more, and he kept the door to the street locked.
The sheriff was out of town, and wasn't due back for a week, and I began to get the feeling that the quicker they tried me the better. If they didn't hurry, some of those boys outside might be figuring on a necktie party. I began to wish for the high-up country away out yonder, where nobody goes but eagles and mountain sheep. By the wall outside the cell I could see my own outfit -- my saddle, bridle, and saddlebags, my rifle and pistol belt. I wanted a horse between my knees, and a Winchester.
Dan Creed came to see me. The jailer knew him and admitted him without hesitation. 'You'd better let me get you a gun,' Creed said when the jailer had gone back to the office. 'They're surely figuring on stringing you up. I've talked until I'm blue in the face, but they pay me no mind. They say, 'Sure, he brought your youngsters out of Mexico. You'd speak for him no matter what kind of a coyote he is.' '
'What else are they saying?'
'Well, they say they've only your word for it that the Apaches were still there when you shot Higgins. They say when the Injuns pulled out you just figured to be rid of another Higgins.'
Lewiston, who seemed to have been my friend, was gone. Even if I could get word to Orrin and Tyrel, they were too far away to do much good. It began to look to me as if my number was really up.
In matters such as lynching there's always toughs who are ready for it, and there are always people who don't want to be involved. There are men who would stop such things, but it takes a strong man who will make the attempt. I'd never expected to be on the end of the rope myself, although anybody who packs a gun runs that risk.
Again night came, and outside I could hear the mutter of voices, and angry talk.
There was no telling if it would come to more than talk, but lying on that prison cot in the darkness I wasn't willing to bet on it.
Suddenly, from out of the darkness outside my window, a voice spoke. 'We're going to get you, Sackett. We're going to see you hang!' My feet swung to the floor, and I was mad clear through. 'Come an' get me, Yellow Belly,' I said.
'I'll know your voice when I hear it. You just come asking, and you'll get it!'
There was a grate of boots on gravel, and a sound of retreating footsteps.
Suddenly I realized that I was no longer tired. I'd come to this place physically exhausted, but now I'd had three good days of rest, and I was ready.
I got up and went to the bars.
'Jim!' I hailed the jailer. 'Come running! I got to see you!'
There was no answer, and I yelled again.
There was still no reply. But I heard a mutter of voices.
The jailer was gone, and they had come for me.
Chapter 19
Tucson was for the most part a town of law-abiding citizens. I knew that, and so did that crowd out there. The trouble was, would those citizens get here in time to help me? I knew what those men outside wanted most was quiet, but I aimed to see they didn't get it.
Getting up from my cot, I gave a look around. There was nothing there that would make a weapon except the frame of the cot, which was of half-inch pipe. So I just wrenched the cot clear of the wall, breaking it enough to unscrew two sections of it, one about seven feet long, the other an end piece that was about three feet in length, with an elbow on it.
Standing both pieces close by, I waited. Outside I could hear somebody by the window, then the door from the outer office opened into the prison section. Men came crowding through, and I could see others in the office.
I stood up then. 'You boys huntin' something?' I spoke careless-like. 'If you are, you've come to the wrong place.'
'We're a-goin' to hang you for killin' Billy Higgins.'
'I killed him -- he asked me to. In his place or mine, you'd have done the same.'
I could smell the whiskey on them. This bunch had been drinking to get up the nerve to come after me, but they were tough men nonetheless. I heard somebody fumbling with keys, and knew there was no time to lose.
'I'm going to tell you once, and that's all,' I said. 'You boys get out of here, an' get fast.'
They'd come without a light, and it was dark as a pit in there. They hadn't figured they'd need a light to take me out of the cell, and they didn't want to draw any more attention than need be. I was only one man and they were twenty.
'Look who's givin' orders!' somebody said. 'Get that lock open and let's get him out of here!'
Now, there's a time for talk and a time for action, and I never was much gifted with oratory. I picked up the long pipe, and when I heard them trying to get the key into the lock I gripped that pipe with both hands shoulder high and, holding it tight, I jammed it between the bars. At close quarters and in the dark it was a terrible weapon. The passage outside the cells was narrow and they were packed in tight.
With all the power that was in me, I jammed that pipe into the crowd beyond the bars. I heard the crunch, then a horrible, choking scream.
'What was it? What happened?' somebody yelled, and there was panic in the voice.
Drawing back on the pipe, I held it waist high and jammed it through again, further into them.
Another scream, then a cry, 'Back! For God's sake, let us out of here!'
Somebody else yelled, 'What's the matter? You gone crazy? Let's get him!'
Jerking the pipe back, I smashed hard at the voice and heard a scream. Then came a shout, 'Get out! Get out!'
Men were fighting and struggling to get out of the narrow passageway. Thrusting my pipe through the bars this tune at ankle height, I heard several of them go sprawling. Somebody jerked a gun and fired blindly through the bars, the shot missing me by several feet. I drove my bar at the flash and heard a grunt, then anguished cries of pain, and stampeding feet. Suddenly the passage was empty except for somebody who lay groaning on the floor.
'Serves you right,' I said calmly. 'Whoever you are, you got what you had coming.'
'Help! For God's sake, help me!'
'How am I going to do that?' I said. 'I'm behind bars. You just crawl outside and get some of those murdering friends of yours to help.'
There was another shuddering groan and I heard the sound of dragging. I stood my pipe against the cell wall, and waited. If they came again it would be to shoot, but I had a hunch they wouldn't come.
Now I heard angry questions outside in the street, and then the outer door opened. A match scratched and somebody lit the lamp. Men appeared in the passageway. One of them was Oury, whom I knew to be a reputable man.
'What's happened? What's going on here?' he said.
A man was lying on the floor, and a trail of blood showed where another had dragged himself. A loose coil of rope and a six-shooter lay just outside the cell.
'Seems I had visitors,' I said, leaning on the bars. 'They wanted me for a necktie party. Only I didn't think it ought to go on without some sort of official plannin', so those folks, they taken off.'
Oury's face was grim. 'I am sorry, young man. Those were a bunch of drunken teamsters and drifters, not citizens of Tucson.'
'I figured as much,' I said. 'Mr. Oury, do you reckon you could get somebody to bring me a pot of coffee from the Shoo-Fly, and something to eat? I'm getting almighty hungry.'
'I will do more than that. Jim' -- he turned to one of the others -- 'get me the keys. I am taking this young
