and the mouth and chin which showed beneath were hard and set. One hand rested significantly at his hip and, as he yelled again, a vibrating, taunting yell, he threw back a shoulder in a swaggering gesture of defiance.
"Now, you Montgomery Ward cowpunchers, you Jim-Crow miners, you yellow-back bad men from God knows where, if you-all want a target, try me! Take somebody of your size. Jest call out your names when you throw, if you're men enough."
He was a picture of reckless, personal courage, of consummate self-confidence as he bounded upon the stage and faced the bullies. Once more his voice rang out with all the challenging savagery of a Comanche war-cry:
"What's the matter with you-all! Fire away, Greasers. If you got any more of that there ammunition—shoot it here! Don't be bashful, Juan Ospino, jest because I'm lookin' at you!"
His supporters were tumbling over chairs and benches to reach his side, not only ready but eager for the fray, and they made a group too formidable for the rowdies in the rear to
