But it was just this support that Steptoe strangely clung to in his
designs for the future, and a wild idea seized him. The surveyor was
really the only disinterested witness between the two parties. If
Steptoe could confuse his mind before the actual fighting--from which he
would, of course, escape as a non-combatant--it would go far afterwards
to rehabilitate Steptoe's party. "Very well, then," he said to Marshall,
"I shall call this gentleman to witness that we have been attacked
here in peaceable possession of our part of the claim by these armed
strangers, and whether they are acting on your order or not, their blood
will be on your head."
"Then I reckon," said the surveyor, as he tore away his beard, wig,
spectacles, and mustache, and revealed the figure of Jack Hamlin, "that
I'm about the last witness that Mr. Steptoe-Horncastle ought to call,
and about the last witness that he ever WILL call!"
But he had not calculated upon the desperation of Steptoe over the
failure of this last hope. For there sprang up in the outlaw's brain the
same hideous idea that he voiced to his companions at the Divide. With
a hoarse cry to his followers, he crashed his pickaxe into the brain of
Marshall, who stood near him, and sprang forward. Three or four shots
were exchanged. Two of his men fell, a bullet from Stacy's rifle pierced
Steptoe's leg, and he dropped forward on one knee.
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