Bennington swallowed, and found his voice at last.
"Now be reasonable," he pleaded. "It isn't going to do you any good to
hang me. I didn't mean to make any distinctions. I just paid the oldest
debts, that's all. You'll all get paid. There'll be some more money
after a while, and then I can pay some more of you. If you kill me, you
won't get any at all."
"Won't get any any way," some one muttered audibly from the crowd.
The man with the watch never stirred.
"Two minutes more," he said simply.
One of the men, who had been holding the young man's arms, had fallen
back into the crowd when the lariat was thrown over the oak limb.
During the short colloquy just detailed, the attention of the other had
become somewhat distracted. Bennington wrenched himself free, and
struck this man full in the face.
He had never in his well-ordered life hit in anger, but behind this
blow was desperation, and the weight of a young and active body. The
man went down. Bennington seized the lariat with both hands and tried
to wrench it over his head.
The individual who had done all the talking leaped forward toward him,
and dodging a hastily aimed blow, seized him about the waist and threw
him neatly to the ground.
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