"That's your own affair, gentlemen," Reade went on. "I wish to suggest
--in fact, I beg of you--that you let these fellows go to-night. In the
morning, when the sun is up, and after you have thought over the matter,
you will be in a better position to give these fellows fair-minded
justice--if you then still feel that something must be done to them.
That is all I have to say, gentlemen. Now, Mr. Beasley, won't you follow
with further remarks in this same line?"

Mr. Beasley looked more or less reluctant, but he presently complied
with Reade's request. Then Tom called upon another prominent citizen of
Paloma in the crowd for a speech.

"Let the coyotes go--until daylight," was the final verdict of the
crowd, though there was an ominous note in the expressed decision.

In stony silence the crowd now parted to let Jim Duff and his fellows go
away.

Within sixty seconds the last of them had run the gauntlet of contempt
and vanished.

"Someone told me," scoffed Beasley, "that a gambler is a man of courage,
polish, brains and good manners. I reckon Jim Duff isn't a real
gambler, then."

"Yes, he is!" shouted another. "He's one of the real kind--sometimes
smooth, but always bound to fatten on the money that belongs to other
men."

"Jim can leave town, I reckon," grimly declared another old settler.