As if rattler's fangs had burned his flesh the giant leaped from under the burden-bearing rail. Von Tromp was pitched almost to Original's feet. Original, still covering the front rank, groped for the lawyer's collar and jerked him to his feet. Von Tromp swayed unsteadily until the inspector's left arm circled his waist. Half supporting, half dragging the wreck, Original slowly backed to the sidewalk and to the Capitol's door. The door was opened from within, and hands caught Von Tromp to snatch him in. Original leaped in behind him.
The door slammed. The bar Dad Strayhorn dropped across it was just in time to catch the strain of bodies hurled against the heavy panels from without. A club crashed through one of the windows.
The dozen or so beleaguered cowmen in the saloon closed round Original and Von Tromp and rushed them toward the back door, which gave on to a corral and feed lot. Several saddled ponies were tethered to the bars there. Two cow-punchers mounted and Von Tromp was half lifted to the back of a third horse.
"Ride him to J. C. Ranch and hold him there for the stage," was Original's command
