Arthur O. Friel

“ In all the town, the only one not engaged in some form of physical or mental activity was Pablo Benito, whose work and worry were forever past.
Beside his lifeless form Veinte Cuatro straightened up, wiped his hands, and swept a smoldering gaze along the faces of several of his men. All others had been banished from the room.
“The bullets struck in the back,” he declared. “The man was running away. He made no fight.” ”

“ The eyes of all three men followed her slender figure into the dimness beyond the door.
“Now,” went on the raider, his tone becoming more brusk, “Señor El Tigre, explain to me one thing. That Tigre of whom I have heard was a fighter, a revolucionario with a strong hand and a strong band. If you are that one, how comes it that you desert the cause of liberty and justice when every good fighter is needed? I find it hard to believe that courtesy to a young woman is your only motive.” ”

“ Now, although armed men moved in every street and busied themselves in many a house, every movement was under command, every invasion of dwelling or shop watched by officer or non-com. The reckless mob had become a military body; the turmoil had given way to martial law. Veinte Cuatro, the forceful Black Ant, had shut his jaws and clamped the town in an iron grip.
Within fifteen minutes after the shooting of Pablo Benito the transformation from lawless license to cold control was complete. ”