“Git him?” the crowd yelled. “We’ll git you, you bosco—you white-livered whelp—you low-down, ornery—”

And they meant it, too!

“Git your rope, Stuffy,” some one cried. “We’ll give that hombre a ride.”

Gallup and Kent glanced at Hobe. The big foreman’s face was black with hatred. “Come on,” they heard him grumble; “we’re goin’ up there.”

“He only did what he was told to do,” the sheriff hurried to explain. “I swore him in. He’s within the law.”

“Law?” Hobe’s jaw looked dangerous. “Ain’t no law that’ll let a man murder his pal. To hell with your law! We’re goin’ to git him!”

Roddy’s face paled at the crowd’s answer to this statement. Kent, however, was less frightened.

“I’m tellin’ you, boys,” the old man cried. “Ain’t no man workin’ for me that touches that Basque. I wanted my girl. He got her for me.”

“Well, I’m tellin’ you, Kent,” Hobe ground out, “it’s either me or the Basque. We don’t ride the same range after this.”

There wasn’t even the smallest bit of bluff about this. Kent realized it, too. He could ill afford to lose Hobe. “The Basque’ll go, then,” he said grudgingly, “but I’ll not see him hung.”

“And what do you think he’d do to the girl if the crowd of you started up there?” Roddy inquired. “If he’s what you think he is, he’d fix her.”

“Let all of you stay back,” Kent cried, elbowing his way to Gallup’s side. “The two of us will go up. I want my girl, and I’ll git her unharmed. What Roddy says is so. You’re only makin’ a damned nuisance out of yourself with this talk of hangin’. Come on, Gallup!”

For a moment Kent was master. He was again the tyrant of bygone days.

Madeiras was keenly alive to his danger. He had sent Charlie Paul on his way; Molly was heaping coals of fire upon the Basque’s head, but the thing which held Tony’s attention was that angry murmur from below. He recognized the sounds. He had seen men hanged!

With a sigh of relief he saw Gallup and Kent break from the crowd and start toward him. When they reached the upper side of the little flat the Basque called to them:

“You drop those gun before you come any closer!”

“I want my daughter!” Kent answered.

“Thass always right wit’ me, seÑor; but those gun—they stay behin’.”

“Humor the fool,” Gallup cried, throwing his rifle into the sage. “We want the girl, and I want to see Dice’s body.”

Unarmed, therefore, they climbed to the entrance of the mine. Madeiras met them with a surly laugh.

“Where is she?” Kent demanded.

Tony pointed to a pile of blankets upon which Molly lay sobbing. Kent knelt beside her, his bony fingers shaking as he caressed her hair.

“Come, Molly,” he begged, “we’ll git you home.”

Molly turned from him angrily.

“Don’t touch me,” she cried. “Your hands are as red as that beast’s there. I didn’t believe you could stoop to this.”

“Now, now,” Kent pleaded, “you’re all upset. I’ll——”

“You’ll do nothing for me!” Molly raised her hand and pointed at Gallup. “You two men may take me away from here; you may make me go to the ranch, and even marry me off; but you’ll do it by force! Father—I think I despise you. I see now why you got Madeiras to come back. It was nicely worked out. Well, I know where I stand. I’m no longer the fool.”

The girl was hysterical. The old man thought she would fall, so helplessly did she sway from side to side.

“My own father—my own flesh and blood,” she sobbed. “That you could do this to me.” And with a lunge she threw herself toward the edge of the dump over which Johnny had pitched.

Kent caught her and drew her back, a dead weight in his arms.

“She’s fainted,” he gasped.

“Won’t hurt her,” Gallup assured him. “Here’s horses; git her down to my rig and take her home. Put her to bed and see that she don’t try nothin’ foolish. I’m goin’ down there.” And he pointed to the spot where he expected to find Johnny’s body. “You come along, Madeiras. We can git down there if we take our time.”

“SÍ, I go; but I go alone. SeÑor, you are the coroner, not the sheriff. Why should I go weeth you?”

“You know why,” Aaron growled.

“I know no such theeng,” Tony argued. “You geeve me five hundret dollar. I keel him like I promise. You ought be satisfied.”

Kent’s eyes opened.

“You paid him to kill the boy?” the old man asked Aaron.

“Why not?” demanded Gallup. “We’re done with him. I want to see just how damn dead he is, though. Come on, Madeiras; you can’t afford to break with me.”

Tony laughed softly to himself. When Kent started downhill with Molly the Basque motioned to Gallup, and they set off, too. Tony’s heart was heavy. He had overplayed his hand.

The long Nevada twilight was almost over by the time the two men reached the bottom of the little side caÑon into which Johnny’s body had shot.

“Here’s the place,” Gallup called. “Tons of rock came down. I don’t see him, do you? Look around.”

They searched for fifteen minutes—time enough, considering the place—without finding the body. Madeiras was wildly excited over this. “Mebbe those rock cover heem up, eh?” he suggested, white-lipped.

“Naw! Wasn’t he ridin’ on top of them?”

“SÍ! But plenty rock come after him. No blood, no not’ing, here. When the moon come up I deeg in these rock.”

“What’s the use? If he’s buried, he’s dead enough. You can stay here if you want to; I’m goin’ back. And I’ll trouble you to return that five hundred. I ain’t payin’ for a dead man unless I see the body.”

“Thass so, seÑor?” the Basque inquired unpleasantly. He paused, then: “Thees place plenty beeg enough for two daid man.”

He tossed his rifle in back of him, and with hands resting upon his hips, he faced Gallup.

Aaron felt a shiver pass through his body. The size of those hands froze his blood. He fancied he could feel them at his throat—tearing, strangling, forcing the breath from his old carcass.

Gallup’s cunning did not fail him. He knew that the present was the time for quick thinking and smooth talking.

“Why are you so down on me?” he asked, apparently going off at a tangent.

“You ask that, seÑor?”

Madeiras’ teeth showed white and even in the half light.

“That mortgage, eh? We can adjust that. Things can be arranged. Tobias oversteps himself now and then. But give me a little time; I’ll fix that up. And now about the five hundred—you keep it. You’ll be goin’ away, and you’ll be needin’ money.” Aaron rubbed his hands. “Yes,” he repeated, “you keep that money, Tony.”

“No, seÑor,” Tony said lightly. “You have made leetla mistak’. You tak’ those money back. But you owe me somet’ing, of course. I keep thees.”

Madeiras had been running his fingers through the contents of Gallup’s purse and now held out for Aaron’s inspection the little gold snake Crosbie Traynor had worn on his hat band.

Gallup shrank back, his jaws working nervously. The next second he was reaching for the little charm.

“No, seÑor,” Tony warned. “I keep eet.”

“I didn’t know it was in there,” Gallup shrieked. “It’s mine! What in hell do you want with it?”

“Thass fonny t’ing why I want heem, seÑor. But since first time I see those leetla snake I t’ink mebbe I lak’ to wear heem on my hat ban’ some time.”

“What’re you talkin’ about? I’ve owned that luck piece these forty years. Who’d you ever see wearin’ it?”

Tony grinned again.

“Mebbe those man what brought eet back to you, seÑor. He say the man what own eet be sure recognize heem by that snake.”

“What’s that? What—what man?” Aaron babbled.

“Those man what keel himself, seÑor. Johnny Dice mebbe dead; but me—Tony Madeiras—ees steel here! You go now.”

Aaron was in no position to dispute this.

Bent over, muttering strange words to himself, Gallup moved away, in his ears the mocking laughter of the Basque.

Tony kept his word with Johnny. As soon as the moon came up he set the dÉbris in motion again. Tons and tons of small rock cascaded down upon the mass already piled in the choked caÑon, but it failed to uncover the body of the boy.

It occurred to Madeiras, then, that Johnny might have crawled away some distance and be lying helpless further down the caÑon. He called for the better part of ten minutes, but received no answer.

Johnny Dice was not to be found.

Hours later Gallup stumbled into Kent’s camp. Only Roddy and Tobias and one or two others remained.

“You look as though you’d seen a ghost,” the sheriff remarked. “What in God’s name you been up to?”

“Terrible trip,” Gallup moaned. “Too much for me.”

“Ain’t you goin’ to hold an inquest?”

“Inquest, hell!” Aaron snorted. “The man’s buried under a hundred ton of rock. The Basque was your deputy. That ends it as far as I’m concerned.”