Star Toter by Al Cody Read Free Book Online Page B

fool!" the spokesman muttered, but the damage had been done. Ray's face darkened.
    "Steele, eh?" he nodded. "That's about what I'd expect. The man's a crook, and everybody knows that he hates me. And you poor chumps run like lackeys when he snaps his fingers!"
    That angered them because it was true. "Insultin' us ain't going to do you any good. Steele didn't send us. He received a letter accusin' you, and telling where you had stuff hid. He asked us to be mighty careful to get the facts, and to be sure of what we were doing, in case you were innocent. But as far as I'm concerned, I've seen plenty. You admit that you're a thief, then you abuse us when we ask about this loot we found. I reckon we've all heard enough."
    Ray's face was a study. "You fools," he said bitterly. "I thought you were talking about something else—"
    "Take his gun," the leader ordered wearily. "We've all the evidence we need. We'll string him up—"
    Up to then, no gun had been drawn, no hostile act performed on either side. Ray was outnumbered six to one, and he knew that the crew was unlikely to return for hours, not soon enough to be of any help. But as they closed in on him he leaped to meet them. His fist caught the spokesman and knocked him clear off the porch. Lowering his head, he rammed a second, butting him in the stomach like a goat and knocking him sprawling.
    The others piled on him in a pack, but he was far from subdued. He fought like a wild man, and Locke watched with increasing admiration.
    The fight was becoming a wild melee. The men had rolled off the porch to the ground below, all seven mixed together, the six apparently unable to subdue Ray. He realized clearly that to be captured now was to be lynched. If at the start they had entertained notions of fairness, those had been driven out by anger. Convinced by his resistance that he was guilty, they would lose no time in stringing him to a tree if they could.
    The if was a sizable one. Half of the six were just about out of the fight, and it almost looked as though Ray, single-handed, might lick them all. Locke's admiration was increasing. He'd had to learn in a hard school for these last seven years, and he could appreciate the struggle which Ray was putting up.
    All at once a gun cracked, and the fight was over. Whether it had been fired deliberately or by accident, Ray was wounded. Still Locke waited, wondering what their reaction would be under such circumstances. That could have a vital bearing on Ray's future as well as on his own.
    The answer came without delay. One man had manhandled and all but defeated six, and the humiliation rankled. The leader, panting for breath, gave the order. "Get a rope over the limb of that nearest tree," he ordered. "We ain't wasting any more time!"
    Ray had been standing, his face a washed-out white like old snow, one hand clasped over his stomach. He seemed too surprised to move or speak, and now he crumpled to the ground. As the others stared indecisively, a furtive horror in their eyes, Locke stepped forward.
    "There'll be no lynching," he warned sharply. Dropping on his knees beside Ray, he added grimly, "If you haven't killed him already." He made a swift examination, while fear tightened his nerves. The wound was an ugly one, through the stomach. If it was not already fatal, it might easily prove so.
    Ray's heart still beat, and he set about applying such first aid measures as he had learned. The important thing was to check the bleeding, and he contrived partially to do so.
    Still intent on his task, he spoke sharply. "He needs to be on a bed. Find something that can be used for a stretcher, and we'll get him into the house. One of you burn leather to town; bring back Doc Bannon. If you can't find him, get Emery. But move!"
    Struck by the silence, he looked up then. He was alone with Ray. Sobered by his appearance, and by the realization that what they were doing was not only outside the law, but that they had in all likelihood murdered a