CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“They could be the men we’re after – the bank robbers,” said Roose, studying the goings-on at the end of the main street.
“Could be,” said Coltrane, “but could just as well be not.”
“Only one way to find out,” said Roose and went to kick his horse forwards.
“Hold on, Sheriff,” cut in Knott. “This looks serious, and I can see one or two of ‘em down on the ground.”
“There’s gonna be a-hangin’,” said Philips.
“They can’t hang those men,” said Roose. “They is our men! It’s my duty to take ‘em back to Bethlehem for trial.”
“Shoot, Sheriff,” said Coltrane, “dead or alive is what it always says on them reward posters. What difference does it make who it is who does the killing?”
“Our men, you say,” put in Knott. “They ain’t my men. Let ‘em hang is what I say.”
“I don’t b
