He heard whisperings, low, hoarse voices, then the shuffle of rapid feet moving away.

All at once a violent hand jerked his gun from its holster.

When Duane rose a gaunt man, livid of face, shaking like a leaf, confronted him with his own gun.
"Hands up, thar, you Buck Duane!" he roared, waving the gun.
That appeared to be the cue for pandemonium to break loose.

Duane opened his lips to speak, but if he had yelled at the top of his lungs he could not have made himself heard.

In weary disgust he looked at the gaunt man, and then at the others, who were working themselves into a frenzy.
He made no move, however, to hold up his hands.