MAX BRAND CRUSADER (1924)

Facing the Mob!
Doc Cambert called: “Hey you. . . Camden!”
The big man yawned in their faces and made no other reply except to shut his strong white teeth with a click.
“We’ve come to give you a runnin’ chance! Come out of that there brush and we’ll give you a twenty-yard start on the hosses to get back to the hotel. If you make it. . . you got an hour to get out of town. If you don’t make it. . . .”
“Shut up, Doc,” cut in Josh Williams. He don’t get no runnin’ chance. We’ve had enough of that devil. We’ve had too damned much.”
“You want me?” Camden said. “Then come and take me!” With that, he stepped forth from the shelter of the trees and began to walk toward the hotel, slowly.”
They trooped their horses after him, but no man spoke, no man moved a hand. There was something too formidable about the light-footed bulk—that terribly soft-stepping monster of a man. He seemed capable of leaping at them like a mountain lion. They held their distance until Josh Williams, with a shout as though at a roundup, whirled the noose of his rope and spurred forward.