He discharged a quick volley after the fleeing men, and though not once shooting to kill, inflicted wounds from which many an unfortunate fellow never recovered.
The bar tender poked his head above the bar cautiously.
"Gentlemen all finished?" he asked, peering suspiciously at the three men on the other side of the room.
"That depends," answered the desperado easily, "upon whether there are any other gentlemen in need of pills around here. If you know of any more would-be bad men go out and get them. We might as well clean out the whole danged town while we are at it, eh, sheriff?"
Suddenly Jesse wheeled and sent a bullet crashing through the green baize door.
This was followed instantly by a yell of pain and one of the bad man's friends, plunged headlong into the room dead. He had been taking careful aim at the great desperado, who suddenly sensing that danger lurked beyond the door, had fired.
"Say pard," glowed the sheriff, "I've seen some pretty tall shooting in my time and I'm something on the trigger myself, but you fellows have got anything in Silver City backed clear off into the gulch. Shake."
Jesse extended his hand and bowed with mock gentility.
"There's only one man that I ever heard of who could handle a gun like you do," continued the officer of the law.
"_And it is Jesse James who stands before you_," was the outlaw's startling and unexpected reply, one of those devil-may-care impulses that now and then stirred him on to acts that from their very daring, overcame all obstacles and brought him out victorious.
For a moment the sheriff stood like a man stricken suddenly dumb. Jesse faced him with a mocking smile on his face.
"You--you are--Get out of here! Vamoose quicker'n a streak of greased lightning. Don't you know I'm an officer of the law?" exclaimed the gamey little sheriff suddenly turning his back on Jesse and Frank. And the latter two with a laugh walked from the scene of carnage and disappeared in the night.
"Well," snarled Frank, "you have put your foot in it this time everlastingly."
"Oh, I don't know. We'll see," was his laconic answer.
The two men walked across a vacant lot, picked up their horses, mounted and rode out to a mountain gulch nearby, where they joined their fellows. It was no unusual thing for horsemen to be seen on the streets of Silver City, and therefore it excited no comment when seven men rode in from different directions on the following morning. The uniform quality of their horseflesh, however, did attract the attention of the mountaineers, but though each carried a Winchester in his saddle holster, the men excited no more than ordinary interest.