As they did so, Chief of Police Simmons backed into the same
doorway. He had his revolver in his right hand, while he called
back over his shoulder to the owner of the store:
"Granby, telephone the station for my reserves. The Indians and
cowboys of the Wild West Show are on a rampage, and shooting up
Gridley. Tell Sergeant Cluny, from me, to bring the reserves
on the run!"
Bang! bang! bang!
Up the street came a picturesque, dangerous looking group. Three
men in cowboy hats, flannel shirts and "chaps," with revolver
holsters dangling from their belts, and each with a pair of automatic
revolvers in his hands, came along. Just behind this trio were
two indians, painted and wearing gaudy blankets. The Indian were
armed like the cowboys. It was evident that all the members of
the wild band were partially intoxicated.
Bang! bang! bang!
"Get back into the store, you young men!" ordered Chief Simmons
crisply. "These heathen are pie-eyed and they'll shoot you up
quicker than a flash!"
"Who, That lot of freaks?" demanded Tom contemptuously. "Dick!
Greg! Indians are the specialty of the Army. You go after the
redskins, while Harry and I tame these bad men!"
Like a flash, ere Chief Simmons could interfere, the four young
men were off.
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