"
There was almost a general roar.
"All opposed say no."
No one spoke for a moment, then Wambush muttered something, but no one
understood what it was. He turned his horse round and started to
mount. He had his left foot in the stirrup, and had grasped the mane
of the animal with his right hand, when the leader yelled:
"Hold on thar! Not so quick, sonny. We don't let nobody as sneakin'
as you are ride off with a gun in his hip pocket. S'arch 'im, boys;
he's jest the sort to fire back on us an' make a dash fer it."
Hunter and Burks closed in on him. Wambush drew back and put his hand
behind him.
"Damn you! don't you touch me!" he threatened.
The two men sprang at him like tigers and grasped his arms. Wambush
struggled and kicked, but they held him.
"Wait thar a minute," cried the leader; "he don't know when to let well
enough alone. You white sperits out thar with the tar an' feathers
come for'ard. Wambush ain't satisfied with the garb he's got on."
A general laugh went round. With an oath Wambush threw his revolver on
the ground and then his knife.
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