The impetus of his rush drove them both to the floor, where they rolled over and over, and before they stopped thin fingers were locked about the bull neck of the bandit, and two thumbs driven into the hollow of his throat.  With a tremendous effort he heaved himself from the floor, his face convulsed.

He beat with both fists against the lowered head of Dan.  He tore at those hands.  They were locked as if with iron.  Only the laughter, the low, continual laughter rewarded him.

He screamed, a thick, horrible sound.  He flung himself to the floor again and rolled over and over, striving to crush the slender, remorseless body.  Once more he was on his feet, running hither and thither, dragging Dan with him.  His eyes swelled out; his face blackened.  He beat against the walls.  He snapped at the wrists of Dan like a beast, his lips flecked with a bloody froth.

That bull-dog grip would not unlock.  That animal, exultant laughter ran on in demoniac music.  In his great agony the outlaw rolled his eyes in appeal to the crowd which surrounded the struggling two.  Every man seemed about to spring forward, yet they could not move.  Some had their fingers stiffly extended, as if in the act of gripping with hands too stiff to close.

Silent slipped to his knees.  His head fell back, his discoloured tongue protruding.  Dan wrenched him back to his feet.  One more convulsive effort from the giant, and then his eyes glazed, his body went limp.  The remorseless hands unlocked.  Silent fell in a shapeless heap to the floor.

Still no one moved.  There was no sound except the deadly ticking of the clock.  The men stared fascinated at that massive, lifeless figure on the floor.  Even in death he was terrible.  Then Dan’s hand slid inside his shirt, fumbled a moment, and came forth again bearing a little gleaming circle of metal.  He dropped it upon the body of Jim Silent, and turning, walked slowly from the room.  Still no one moved to intercept him.  Passing through the door he pushed within a few inches of two men.  They made no effort to seize him, for their eyes were upon the body of the great lone rider.

The moment Dan was gone the hypnotic silence which held the crowd, broke suddenly.  Someone stirred.  Another cursed beneath his breath.  Instantly all was clamour and a running hither and thither.  Buck Daniels caught from the body of Jim Silent the small metal circle which Dan had dropped.  He stood dumbfounded at the sight of it, and then raised his hand, and shouted in a voice which gathered the others swiftly around him.  They cursed deeply with astonishment, for what they saw was the marshal’s badge of Tex Calder.  The number on it was known throughout the mountain-desert, and seeing it, the worst of Dan’s enemies stammered, gaped, and could not speak.  There were more impartial men who could.  In five minutes the trial of Whistling Dan was under way.  The jury was every cowpuncher present.  The judge was public opinion.  It was a grey-haired man who finally leaped upon the bar and summed up all opinion in a brief statement.