"I've only thirty men;
they're a hundred to one. They've a cannon."
They looked at one another. Casey closed his fists and straightened
slightly. "Give me a case-knife, Dave," he pleaded. "I'll not let them
take me. I'll--"
Silently, Scannell drew from his boot a knife in a leather sheath. Casey
grasped it, feverishly, concealing it beneath his vest. "How soon?" he
asked, "how soon?"
Scannell strode to the window. "They're outside now," he informed the
shrinking Casey. "The executive committee's in front ... the Citizens'
Guard is forming a hollow square around them.... Miers Truett's coming
to the door."
Casey drew the knife; raised it dramatically. "I'll not let them take
me," he shouted, as if to bolster up courage by the sound of his own
voice. "I'll never leave this place alive."
Sheriff Scannell, summoned by a deputy, looked over his shoulder. "Oh,
yes, you will," he muttered. In his tone were pity and disdain.
* * * * *
Early Tuesday afternoon Benito and Broderick met in front of the
Montgomery Block. The former had just been released from duty at
Committee Headquarters, where a guard of 300 men was, night and day,
maintained.
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