LET 'ER BUCK 



"Let's go," shouted Owens. Patterson, leaving 

 Marin, joined the others, now all armed with loaded 

 revolvers, and the five lit out, heading for the railroad 

 tracks. Here one of those strange coincidences we 

 call fate, seemed to favor them — a freight train, an 

 extra, which was promptly jumped was just leaving 

 the city east-bound for the Blue Mountains. 



Wyrick, caring for the fatally wounded sheriff 

 under cover of a gun until the five men fled, immediate- 

 ly upon their departure telephoned for a doctor. Phelps, 

 however, had been suspicious, but being unarmed, 

 walked slowly away until out of sight, then speedily 

 notified the chief of police, who gun in hand, rushed 

 to the jail to find the birds flown. 



"Til's shot!" 



The word was passed by mouth and phone. It was 

 a rude awakening which aroused the slumbering little 

 city from its Sunday siesta. The quiet, empty, hot 

 streets immediately became spotted with little groups 

 of people talking — at first in subdued tones. Then 

 came the second word — "The jail's broke ! Til's mur- 

 derers have made a getaway." 



Then the storm burst. People scurried to and fro, 

 autos shot down street, up street, and across street. 

 Telegraph wires were hot with messages to head off 

 the prisoners or asking for information. Determined 

 men mouths grim set and eyes steady, went quietly but 

 quickly to their homes and loaded their rifles. Hard- 

 ware stores were unlocked and their owners, with a 

 wave of the hand towards the gun racks, told the man- 

 hunters to help themselves. Deputies, headed by the 

 released Marin, took charge and the entire surround- 

 ing country was notified. 



Wild rumors and groundless clues of the flight were 



48 



