a startled oath and stumbled backward over a root.
Fraser, his hand already upon the man’s throat, went down too. Upon him charged men from all directions. In the shadows, they must have hampered each other, for the ranger, despite his wound—his shoulder was screaming with pain—got to his knees, and slowly from his knees to his feet, shaking the clinging bodies from him.
Wrenching his other hand from under the rope, he fought them back as a hurt grizzly does the wolf pack gathered for the kill. None but a very powerful man could ever have reached his feet. None less agile and sinewy than a panther could have beaten them back as at first he did. They fought in grim silence, yet the grove was full of the sounds of battle. The heavy breathing, the beat of shifting feet, the soft impact of flesh striking flesh, the thud of falling bodies—of these the air was vocal. Yet, save for the gasps of sudden pain, no man broke silence save once.
“The snake’ll get away yet!” a hoarse voice cried, not loudly, but with an emphasis that indicated strong conviction.
Impossible as it seemed, the ranger might have done it but for an accident. In the struggle, the rope had slipped to a point just below his knees. Fighting his way down the hill, foot by foot, the Texan felt the rope tighten. One of his attackers flung himself against his chest and he was tripped. The pack was on him again. Here there was more light, and though for a time the mass swayed back and forth, at last they hammered him down by main strength. He was bound hand and foot, and dragged back to the grove.
They faced their victim, panting deeply from their exertions. Fraser looked round upon the circle of distorted faces, and stopped at one. Seen now, with the fury and malignancy of its triumph painted upon it, the face was one to bring bad dreams.
The lieutenant, his chest still laboring heavily, racked with the torture of his torn shoulder, looked into that face out of the only calm eyes in the group.
“So it’s you, Struve?”
“Yes, it’s me—me and my friends.”
“I’ve been looking for you high and low.”
“Well, you’ve found me,” came the immediate exultant answer.
“I reckon I’m indebted to you for this.” Fraser moved his shoulder slightly.
“You’ll owe me a heap more than that before the night’s over.”
“Your intentions were good then, I expect. Being shy a trigger finger spoils a man’s aim.”
“Not always.”
“Didn’t like to risk another shot from Bald Knob, eh? Must be some discouraging to hit only once out of three times at three hundred yards, and a scratch at that.”
The convict swore. “I’ll not miss this time, Mr. Lieutenant.”
“You’d better not, or I’ll take you back to the penitentiary where I put you before.”
“You’ll never put another man there, you meddling spy,” Struve cried furiously.
“I’m not so sure of that. I know what you’ve got against me, but I should like to know what kick your friends have coming,” the ranger retorted.
“You may have mine, right off the reel, Mr. Fraser, or whatever you call yourself. You came into this valley with a lie on your lips. We played you for a friend, and you played us for suckers. All the time you was in a deal with the sheriff for you know what. I hate a spy like I do a rattlesnake.”
It was the man Yorky that spoke. Steve’s eyes met his.
“So I’m a spy, am I?”
“You know best.”
“Anyhow, you’re going to shoot me first, and find out afterward?”
“Wrong guess. We’re going to hang you.” Struve, unable to keep back longer his bitter spleen, hissed this at him.
“Yes, that’s about your size, Struve. You can crow loud now, when the odds are six to one, with the one unarmed and tied at that. But what I want to know is—are you playing fair with your friends? Have you told them that every man in to-night’s business will hang, sure as fate? Have you told them of those cowardly murders you did in Arizona and Texas? Have you told them that your life is forfeit, anyway? Do they know you’re trying to drag them into your troubles? No? You didn’t tell them that. I’m surprised at you, Struve.”
“My name’s Johnson.”
“Not in Arizona, it isn’t. Wolf Struve it is there, wanted for murder and other sundries.” He turned swiftly from him to his confederates. “You fools, you’re putting your heads into a noose. He’s in already, and wants you in, too. Test him. Throw the end of that rope over the limb, and stand back, while he pulls me up alone. He daren’t—not for his life, he daren’t. He knows that whoever pulls on that rope hangs himself as surely as he hangs me.”
The men looked at each other, and at Struve. Were they being led into trouble to pay this man’s scores off for him? Suspicion stirred uneasily in them.
“That’s right, too. Let Johnson pull him up,” Slim Leroy said sullenly.
“Sure. You’ve got more at stake than we have. It’s up to you, Johnson,” Yorky agreed.
“That’s right,” a third chipped in.
“We’ll all pull together, boys,” Struve insinuated. “It’s only a bluff of his. Don’t let him scare you off.”
“He ain’t scaring me off any,” declared Yorky. “He’s a spy, and he’s getting what is coming to him. But you’re a stranger too, Johnson. I don’t trust you any—not any farther than I can see you, my friend. I’ll stand for being an aider and abettor, but I reckon if there’s any hanging to be done you’ll have to be the sheriff,” replied Yorky stiffly.
Struve turned his sinister face on one and another of them. His lips were drawn back, so that the wolfish teeth gleamed in the moonlight. He felt himself being driven into a trap, from which there was no escape. He dared not let Fraser go with his life, for he knew that, sooner or later, the ranger would run him to earth, and drag him back to the punishment that was awaiting him in the South. Nor did he want to shoulder the responsibility of murdering this man before five witnesses.
Came the sound of running footsteps.
“What’s that?” asked Slim nervously.
“Where are you, Steve?” called a voice.
“Here,” the ranger shouted back.
A moment later Dick France burst into the group. “What’s doing?” he panted.
The ranger laughed hardily. “Nothing, Dick. Nothing at all. Some of the boys had notions of a necktie party, but they’re a little shy of sand. Have you met Mr. Struve, Dick? I know you’re acquainted with the others, Mr. Struve is from Yuma. An old friend of mine. Fact is, I induced him to locate at Yuma.”
Dick caught at the rope, but Yorky flung him roughly back.
“This ain’t your put in, France,” he said. “It’s up to Johnson.” And to the latter: “Get busy, if you’re going to.”
“He’s a spy on you-all, just the same as he is on me,” blurted the convict.
“That’s a lie, Struve,” pronounced the lieutenant evenly. “I’m going to take you back with me, but I’ve got nothing against these men. I want to announce right now, no matter who tells a different story, that I haven’t lost any Squaw Creek raiders and I’m not hunting any.”
“You hear? He came into this valley after me.”
“Wrong again, Struve. I didn’t know you were here. But I know now, and I serve notice that I’m going to take you back with me, dead or alive. That’s what I’m paid for, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
It