A wild chorus of yells greeted him. He had surmised that the men had seen him coming back down the trail to the powder house with his human burden. Now he called Sautee into view. They would most naturally assume that it was the mine manager he had been carrying.

“Come to the door where they can see you,” he called to Sautee.

The ring in his voice brought Sautee, white-faced and shivering, to the doorway beside Rathburn.

Another round of yells followed the mine manager’s appearance. Then there was a sudden stillness. Rathburn saw that the crowd was made up mostly of miners. They paused in the wide place in the trail just below the powder house, and Mannix pushed to the fore.

“I want you, Coyote,” he called sternly.

“Now, don’t you think I know it?” replied Rathburn in a voice which carried to all the members of the mob. “You don’t want me for robbing this mine, Mannix; you want me for something you don’t know anything about––because I’ve got a record. Wait a minute!”

He shot out the words as the mob pushed a step forward.

“If you fellows take a couple more steps in this direction I’ll put a bullet into this box of dynamite!”

The movement stopped instantly. Men stared up at him breathlessly, for they realized that he meant what he said.

Mannix’s face was pale, but his eyes glowed with determination.

“Do you think it’s worth it, Coyote?” he asked.

“Step up here, Mannix, an’ listen to what this fellow has to say,” was Rathburn’s reply. “Men,” he called in a loud voice, “I’m lookin’ to you to give your mine boss an’ your deputy sheriff a fair deal.”

There was a murmur among the men. Mannix, after a moment of hesitation, stepped forward.

Rathburn swung on Sautee. “Tell him!” he commanded in a voice which stung like the crack of a whip on still air.

“I––I had a hand in the business,” said Sautee frantically. “It was Carlisle and me. We––we framed the robberies.”

Mannix’s eyes narrowed.

“Tell him where I got that money last night,” Rathburn thundered. “Tell him, Sautee, or, so help me, I’ll drill a hole through you!”

Sautee cowered before the deadly ferocity in Rathburn’s voice. “I had it in the––office––downtown,” he stammered. “There was blank paper in that package, Mannix. Let him go––let him go, Mannix, or we’ll all be killed!” Sautee cried.

Rathburn was looking steadily at the deputy. “Carlisle is roped an’ tied up the trail by the big rocks,” he said. “Send up there for him an’ bring him down here.”

Several of the men who were mounted spurred their horses up the steep trail. There was utter silence now among the men. Mannix, too, was cool and collected. He had not drawn his gun. He surveyed the quaking Sautee with a look of extreme contempt. The mine manager’s nerves had gone to pieces before Rathburn’s menacing personality. All he cared for now was his life. The black reputation he had given to Rathburn led him to believe that the 172 man could not be depended upon, and that he was liable to carry out his threat and blow them all to bits. He wet his lips with a feverish tongue.

“Where’s the money you an’ Carlisle got away with?” demanded Mannix.

“I’ve got all I took,” whined Sautee. “I’ll give it back. I don’t know what Carlisle’s done with his. It was his scheme, anyway; he proposed it when he hit this country a year ago.”

“And the other man–––” suggested Mannix.

“Mike Reynolds,” cried Sautee. “But he was only in on the truck driver deal and––last night. Let The Coyote go, Mannix–––”

Then Sautee, in a frenzy of fear, an easy prey to the seriousness of the situation and his shattered nerves, told everything. He explained how it had been Carlisle who proposed getting Rathburn out of jail and making him the goat. He told of the worthless contents of the package he had given Rathburn to carry to the mine, how they had planned to rob him on the way and thus put him in a situation where he would have to get out of the country. He explained how Carlisle had pointed out that they had a club over Rathburn’s head in their knowledge of his real identity. He complained that Carlisle had intended to double cross him, and how he had double crossed Carlisle in turn. He ended with a whining plea for consideration at the hands of Mannix.

The men with Carlisle came down the trail. Carlisle was astride his own horse. His gun was in his holster.

“We’ve got you, you outlaw!” he cried as he flung himself from the saddle and strode up to Rathburn, Mannix, and Sautee.

Rathburn’s eyes had narrowed until they were slits through which his cold, hard gaze centered upon Carlisle. His attitude had changed. Even his posture 173 was suddenly different. There was a long breath from the men behind Mannix. It was a tense moment. They could see the menace in Rathburn’s manner, and they could see that Carlisle was fighting mad.

“Ain’t you a little free with your language, Carlisle?” drawled Rathburn.

“You know who he is?” Carlisle cried to Mannix. “He’s The Coyote––an outlaw an’ a killer with a price a mile long on his head–––”

“But I ain’t never sneaked any miners’ pay-rolls, Carlisle,” Rathburn broke in with a sneering inflection in his voice. “What’d you do with Mike Reynolds? He was with you last night, wasn’t he?”

Carlisle’s jaw snapped shut. He swung on Rathburn with eyes darting red. Then his gaze flashed to the cringing Sautee.

“You––you rat–––”

Rathburn stepped before Sautee. “You haven’t any quarrel with him, Carlisle,” he said evenly; “your quarrel, if you’ve got one, is with me. I outguessed you, that’s all. You ain’t plumb clever, Carlisle. You ought to be in a more genteel business. I just naturally figured out the play an’ made Sautee talk, that’s all. I ain’t the only gent Mannix is wanting––there’s three of us here!”

Carlisle’s face was purple and working in spasms of rage. He realized instantly that Rathburn had spoken the truth.

“It was his scheme from the start!” shrilled Sautee from the protection of Rathburn’s broad shoulders.

Then the mine manager, unable to longer stand the strain, collapsed on the ground, groaning.

“Underhanded!” Carlisle shot through his teeth as Mannix stepped back. “An’ I heard The Coyote was a go-getter. By guns, I believe you’re yellow!”

“You’ve got a chance to try an’ finish what you 174 started in the Red Feather the day I got here, Carlisle,” said Rathburn in ringing tones. “If you think I’m yellow––draw!”

A second’s hesitation––two figures in identical postures under the morning sun––a vagrant breeze murmuring in the timber.

Then two movements, quick as lightning––too fast for the eye to follow––and the roar of guns.

Rathburn stepped back, his weapon smoking at his hip, as Carlisle swayed for a moment and then crumpled upon the ground. Rathburn quickly drew the piece of paper from his left pocket and the roll of bills from his right. He put the note with the bills and tossed the roll to Mannix. Then he stepped back to the doorway.

“Join your men, Mannix,” he said quietly.

Mannix thrust the money into a pocket and stood for several seconds looking directly into Rathburn’s eyes. A curious expression was on the deputy’s face, partly wonder, partly admiration, partly doubt. Then he turned abruptly upon his heel and walked back to the gaping men.

Sautee struggled to his feet. Rathburn motioned to him to join the others, and he staggered down to them.

Then Rathburn coolly lit a match and touched it to the fuse sticking out from the box of dynamite.

There was a wild yell of terror, and the mob tumbled down the trail as Rathburn ran for the trail above the powder house. The men had disappeared when he turned. His gun leaped into his hand and he fired––once, twice, three times––the fourth shot cut the burning fuse, and with a sharp intaking of breath, he ran for his horse, mounted, and rode into the timber along the trail.