At first it was black as pitch; but I crawled as fast as I could in the hope of catchin’ up with the Friar. It is instinct with most men to follow the right wall when goin’ through a strange place in the dark, though I never could see why. A man carries his weapon in the right hand and naturally ought to be as free with it as possible. Still, most men do it, so I follered the right wall, hopin’ each time I put out my hand it would touch the Friar.

After a time, I saw a faint glimmer o’ light to the left, and I stopped and pointed it out to The. We came to the conclusion that they had a candle lighted in the offset where we had come upon the body, and we discussed whether they were likely to be in there, or had gone on farther back and left the light to see any one who tried to crawl after ’em. I held out ’at they wouldn’t expect any one to crawl after ’em; but The said ’at Ty would be likely to go into just such a place himself, and so would expect others to do the same. Ty certainly had the way of impressin’ his own men.

When we got a little closer, I lay flat and scanned along the floor, tryin’ to make out the Friar between me and the light; but I couldn’t see him, and we went on again. I hope I may never have to do any more such work as this. Creepin’ along in the dark eats up a feller’s nerve like a forest fire.

When we got so close ’at I could see my hands by the light, I sent The across to the other side, remindin’ him to knock his teeth should he chance upon the Friar, or in case we come together again, ourselves.

Then I lay flat with my hat down low, and nudged myself along with my elbows and toes. I couldn’t even make out The across the tunnel, which was only about twelve feet wide, and just for the fraction of a second it came across me that he had formerly been a Cross-brander, himself; but this thought didn’t live long enough to draw its second breath.

Finally I reached the spot where the light threw a splash on the walls and floor, and I made my gun ready and stuck out my neck in what was the most breathless silence I ever tried to listen to. Across the splash o’ light in front of me, all was a solid wall o’ darkness; and I’d have paid over quite a sum to know what eyes were lookin’ out of it.

Farther and farther I pushed myself into the light without seein’ a thing; until finally I saw the candle, itself, and beside it—the Friar.

I wriggled across the tunnel just as The crept into the room from his side, and we felt a little better to be in the light, together again. The body still lay again’ the wall, and The looked at the face; but he didn’t know it. The Friar hadn’t seen or heard anything, either; and we were up a tree to the top branches. We talked it all over, tryin’ to imagine what we would do under the same circumstances, and finally decided they had gone on down the tunnel, leavin’ a man on guard just below the light, and that the man had gone to sleep.

“Well,” sez I after we had discussed things around in a circle for a while, “here we are holed up again, as cozy as a cavey o’ rats with traps set at all the openin’s and en-thusiastic terrier dogs diggin’ down from above. If it’s not bein’ too inquisitive, Friar, what plan did you have in comin’ down here?”

“I wanted to be close to her,” sez Friar Tuck. “I kept thinkin’ o’ how lonely it must be for her through the dark, and I hoped the’ might be some chance o’ helpin’ her to escape. I did not have any definite plan—only faith and hope.”

“Like the shark which swallered the parasol,” sez I, for I was consid’able put out; “he had faith in his digestion and hoped the parasol was some new sort o’ health-food. But to get down to facts—Have you any weapon with you, and are you willin’ to fight?”

“I have no weapon,” sez the Friar; “but I am willin’ to do whatever seems best. I am trusting in the same power which upheld Gideon, and I ask to see no farther than he saw.”

This was the Friar all right, so I merely swallowed a couple o’ times and didn’t say anything. Whether he lived or died was the same to the Friar, as whether he lived in Idaho or Montana would be to another man; so I saved myself a certain amount of irritation by just thinkin’ quietly as to what was best for us to try. Fact was, I didn’t take, as much stock in Gideon just then as I did in Ty Jones.

“I’ll tell you what I think is best,” I sez after a bit; “for me to crawl down the hall in the hope that the watcher really has gone to sleep; while you two stand ready in this offset. If they chase me, I’ll run up the tunnel, and you spring out and take ’em at a disadvantage as they go by.”

O’ course they both wanted to do the crawlin’, but it was my plan, so I stuck out for it, and started. I was really glad to be out o’ the light again, and I crawled as gentle as though crossin’ a bridge of eggs. Before long my fingers struck a boot, and I felt of it ex-treme-lee careful. If ever I go blind, my experience durin’ those days will help consid’able in transferrin’ my eyesight to my fingers.

The feller had toppled over again’ the right wall, and I crept up alongside, holdin’ my gun by the barrel, and ready to swat his head as soon as I had located it; but the’ was no use—the man had already died. He had been shot twice, but they thought he could last a while on guard, and this was why we had been able to cross the lighted place.

Just beyond this, I came upon another offset, on the opposite side from where the candle was. We hadn’t noticed it that mornin’ ’cause we had gone out along the other wall. I heard some heavy breathin’ in here; but I also heard some one tossin’ about an’ mutterin’, and I hardly dared risk an examination. I looked back at the splash of light, and it seemed mighty cheery and sociable, compared with the darkness and company I was in.

It’s astonishin’ the way pictures fly across a feller’s mind at such a time: I saw the boy down at the foot of the stairs, I saw him as he must have been, a few years before some quick, rash deed of his had drawn a veil across the laughter in his eyes; I saw the feller in the offset, and wondered how much it had taken to turn the expression of his face into that beastlike hunger for revenge, and then dozens of schemes and plans for capturin’ Ty began to flash upon me; but each time, the presence of the woman spoiled everything. They had used her for a shield once, they would do it again, and I couldn’t see a way to get around her.

We knew ’at Ty had vowed he would never be taken alive; and I couldn’t see what we would do with him even if we did take him alive; but I could see that he would take pleasure in draggin’ as big a bunch into the next world with him as possible, and yet every scheme ’at came to me was blocked by the presence of the woman. Finally I crept a little way into the offset. My hand touched a piece of cloth, I felt over it with nothin’ except the ridges on my fingers touchin’; but just when I made sure it was the Chink, he moved and sat up. I stopped breathin’; but after a minute, he sighed and settled back.

I waited a little longer and then crawled back and told what I had discovered. “If the’ was only some way we could throw a light into that offset,” sez I, “I think we could fix ’em.”

We studied over this for some time before the Friar thought up a way which seemed worth tryin’. I said I’d go back and stay at the far side o’ the openin’, and when they brought the rope back, to come right on with it along the left wall, and I’d knock my teeth together to show it was me—provided I was still there and able. So the Friar pulled off his boots, and The kept watch in the offset while the Friar ran back. I thought it must be several days since we’d come in, but he looked at his watch before startin’, and it was only two o’clock.

From where I was, I could make out the shape o’ the feller they had put on watch, and knew I could keep cases on all within the little rock room. After an age, I saw two forms creep like ghosts out of the dark beyond the candle, and ooze into the offset without makin’ a sound. Then in a moment, Promotheus came stealin’ along the wall with the end of the rope. I made my signal to him, and he went on down the tunnel, slowly pullin’ the rope after him.

I was mighty curious to see how they had fixed the lantern, which they were to light with the candle in the offset, and it made me feel a lot better when it came out of the recess. Horace had done the fixin’, I afterward found out, and it had nearly broke his heart not to come in with it; but he realized that it was necessary to have an outer guard, so he had stayed with the two Simpson boys. He had put the lantern into a box after nailin’ a couple o’ short pieces of rope on the bottom for runners; and now it came slidin’ along without makin’ a sound. He had sawed a piece out of the side, so that all the light came up again’ the ceilin’, and onto the side where the openin’ was.

Slowly it came along, and I stood in the shadow watchin’ it. Finally it fell on the face of the man lyin’ near the openin’, and I saw he was one of those who had been at Skelty’s that night—for all I know, it was his hand I had seen raisin’ the window to my room. Next, it lighted up the openin’, itself; and then The stopped pullin’ and crept up opposite me. We heard ’em sighin’ and groanin’, in the recess, and finally the woman’s voice gave a weary moan as she came awake.

In a second, Ty’s voice was heard, askin’ what was the matter; and we all braced up our nerves. A weak, delirious voice started to babble, but it was broken by a shot, and a bullet ripped through the box, but without puttin’ out the light. I started across the hall; but The had already seen it, and had taken the rope and ran down the tunnel with it. He turned the box, so ’at just the left edge o’ the light touched the openin’, and then came across to my side. We weren’t in a black shadow now; but still, with the light in their faces, it would have been hard to see us.

A hand reached out of the openin’, and fired in our direction, I dropped to my knee and aimed at the hand, but neither shot counted; and for the next few minutes, all we heard was that weak voice, babblin’ indistinctly. It hadn’t worked out as I thought it would. I figured that they’d be surprised when the light shone in their faces, and would rush out and give us a chance. Now that it was too late, I thought up half a dozen better schemes.

Even while I was thinkin’ up a perfect one, I saw a form come out from the recess, and threw my gun up—but I didn’t snap the hammer. It was the woman, and behind her I could make out the shaved head o’ the Chinaman.

We all stayed silent for some time, an’ then Ty’s voice said: “Well, what kind of a settlement do you fellers want?”

He spoke as self-composed as though puttin’ through a beef-dicker, and no reply was made for several seconds. Then, as no one else spoke, I sez: “All we want is just the woman and what’s left o’ your outfit, Ty.”

“Who’s that speakin’?” sez Ty.

“He’s generally called Happy Hawkins, Ty,” sez I.

“Who’s in charge o’ your gang?” sez he.

“Dinky Bradford,” sez I after thinkin’ a moment; “but I’m delegated to speak for him.”

“Tell ya what I’ll do,” sez Ty; “I’ll trade ya the woman for Dinky Bradford an’ the Singin’ Parson. Send those two in to me, and I’ll send her out to you.”

This was the foolest proposition ever I heard of. The woman wouldn’t ’a’ been any use to us without the Friar. “Dinky Bradford is guardin’ the mouth o’ the tunnel,” sez I; “but he wouldn’t stand for any such nonsense, nohow.”

“Is the preacher here?” asked Ty.

“Yes, I am here,” sez the Friar, steppin’ out from the offset and comin’ toward us. Olaf, who was with him, caught his arm and kept him from exposin’ himself.

“Damn you,” sez Ty, slow an’ deliberate. “I hate you worse ’n any man in this territory. You’re at the bottom of all this kick-up. You’re the one which has turned my own men again’ me; and all I ask is a chance to settle it out with you.”

“You’re mistaken if you think that I advised this method,” began the Friar; but Ty broke in, and said: “Never mind any o’ that preacher-talk. I know what’s what, and I’m all prepared to have you hide behind your religion, after havin’ started all the trouble. I’ll offer you a plan which any man would accept—but I don’t class you as a man. The fair way to settle this would be for the men who are with us to empty their guns an’ lay ’em on the floor, then you and me strip to the waist an’ fight it out with knives. They haven’t anything at stake; but I suppose you’ll be true to your callin’, and make them take all the risk.”

“I want to be true to my callin’,” sez the Friar; “and fightin’ with knives isn’t part o’ my callin’.”

Ty laughed as mean as a man ever did laugh; and both Olaf and I offered to take the Friar’s place; but Ty said he didn’t have anything special again’ us any more ’n he’d have again’ the Friar’s ridin’ hoss; and then he offered to fight the Friar and Dinky Bradford at the same time.

He kept on roastin’ the Friar till I bet I was blushin’; but the Friar just stood out straight in the gloom o’ the tunnel and shook his head no. Then the woman took a half step forward, an’ the Chink jerked her back, twistin’ her wrist and makin’ her give a smothered scream.

I had moved the box around to give us a little more light; and when she screamed, I saw the blood rush up the Friar’s pale face to his eyes, where it burst into flame. Livin’ fire it was, and in a flash it had burned away his religion, his scruples again’ violence, the whole outer shell o’ civilization, and left him just a male human with his woman in the power of another. “Strip,” he said, and his words rolled down the tunnel like a growl of a grizzly. “Strip, and fight for your life, for I intend to destroy you.”

I can still hear the laugh Ty gave when the Friar said this. “Destroy me?” he said. “Destroy me? That’s a good one! Now, do your men agree to let us go free if I win?”

“I do,” sez The.

“I do,” said I, after I’d taken another look at the Friar, who was already unbuttonin’ his shirt.

“I do—if you fight fair,” said Olaf slowly.

“Then one of ya hold the lantern while we empty the guns,” said Ty.

I didn’t like this part of it; but couldn’t see any way out; so while The held the lantern, one on each side emptied a gun and tossed it to the center of the tunnel. We emptied all of ours, and they emptied all of theirs, and then while Ty was takin’ off his shirt, I went up to the Friar. When I saw the taut muscles ripplin’ beneath his white skin, I felt comforted; but when I saw him holdin’ his knife point down, the way they do in the picture-books, I got worried again.

“Take your knife the other way, Friar,” I whispered; “and strike up under the floatin’ ribs on his left side. That’s the way to his heart.”

“I know how to fight with a knife,” he snapped; so I didn’t say any more. Horace had become a gun-fighter, here was the Friar claimin’ to know the knife game, and if the woman had stepped out and challenged the winner to a fight with stones, why, I was so meek I wouldn’t ’a’ got het up over it.

Then Ty Jones came out of the other offset, stripped to the waist also and holdin’ his knife in his left hand. The woman had gone into the niche on our side, me an’ Olaf leaned again’ our wall, Pepper Kendal and the Chink leaned again’ the wall opposite us, The held up the lantern, and for a full minute the only sound was the wounded Cross-brander, babblin’ out his delirium back in the cave-room.

Ty was a shade beefier ’n the Friar; but his skin was dull, and the muscles didn’t cut off into the tendons so sharp, nor they didn’t seem quite so springy or well oiled; but there was half a dozen knife scars on his chest, and he had come up our way from Mexico.

They walked toward each other, Ty’s eagle eyes an’ wolf-grin tryin’ to beat down the grim set to the Friar’s face. They both crouched over an’ circled about each other like a pair o’ big cats. Ty made a few lunges, but the Friar parried ’em as simple as though it was a game, and purty soon Ty was forced to slip his knife to his right hand with the blade pointin’ up for a rip. When he did this, the Friar smiled, turned his own knife the same way; and I recalled the Friar havin’ told me about learnin’ knife tricks from an I-talian he had helped back East.

I don’t like knife fightin’, and I don’t approve of it; but I will say ’at this fight was the cleanest, quickest thing I ever saw. The Friar was the best man, but Ty was the best posted; and time and again the Friar saved himself by foot work. The follered ’em close with his lantern, while Olaf and I kept a half watch on the two opposite us.

They kept movin’ faster and faster and the’ was a continuous spattin’ as they parried with their left hands. Finally the Friar grabbed Ty by the wrist, Ty grabbed the Friar’s wrist at the same time, lowered his head, and butted the Friar in the pit o’ the stomach. It looked bad; but the Friar had raised his knee and caught Ty on the chin; so they staggered apart and breathed deep for a minute, before beginnin’ again.

The grin had left Ty’s face, and it had settled into black hate. When they began again, the Friar seized Ty’s wrist every chance he got, twistin’ it, bendin’ the arm, and tryin’ to thrust with his knife; but Ty was tough and wiry, and managed to twist out every time. At last the Friar caught Ty’s right wrist, dropped his own knife, ran his head under Ty’s right arm, caught the slack of his right pant leg, gave a heave and threw him over his head. It was a clean throw and the Friar stooped, picked up his knife and started for Ty before he had time to get to his feet. Ty rolled to his feet and dodged away as though to run, whirled, took the blade of his knife between thumb and forefinger, and spun it through the air. It struck the Friar’s collarbone, cut a gash through his shoulder, and twanged again’ the wall o’ the tunnel.

The two men eyed each other for a moment, the calm of victory in the Friar’s eyes, the red of baffled hate in Ty’s. They were about eight feet apart. “Will you give up?” asked the Friar.

“No,” sez Ty. He doubled up his fists as though to spring, then whirled and stepped into the offset behind him. In a moment, he came out with a gun in his hand.

As soon as he had said no, Pepper Kendal an’ the Chink had made a dive for the offset, and Olaf and I had made a dive for them. I got Pepper who was old and stiff, and I managed to hit him in the center o’ the forehead just as Ty came out with his gun. Olaf was havin’ trouble with the Chink, and I picked up a gun and tapped Pepper on the head with it, and then turned to knock the Chink. Just as I turned, I saw the woman walkin’ slowly down the tunnel behind the Friar, and I saw Ty bend his gun on him. Even then he had to pause a moment to enjoy his deviltry, and I still see that picture in my dreams—the Friar standin’ silent and proud, with his head thrown back and his level eyes full on Ty, while back of him stood the woman as unconcerned as a snow-bird. About six feet beyond ’em stood Promotheus holdin’ the light above his head, while his face seemed frozen with horror.

For an instant they stood like stone images. Then The lunged forward and caught Ty’s arm, the lantern went out, I heard one clear report, and one muffled one, and then I started for ’em. I bumped into a heavy form, two naked arms went around me in a bear-grip, and we rolled to the floor. The candle in our offset had burned out; but I knew it was the Friar, ’cause his was the only smooth face among us. “This is Happy,” I muttered, and we rose to our feet.

A struggle was goin’ on beyond us, and I thought it was Olaf and the Chink; so I lit a match, knowin’ that Ty would ’a’ had plenty o’ time to get away already. As the match burned up, I saw the Chink lyin’ stretched out, and Olaf and Ty locked together. Olaf had his leg wrapped around Ty’s, and was bendin’ his back. Ty’s eyes were stickin’ out white an’ gruesome, and he was gurglin’ in the throat. Suddenly, somethin’ cracked and they both fell to the floor o’ the tunnel just as the match went out.

I heard hard breathin’, and then Olaf’s harsh voice came out o’ the darkness. “Well,” he said, “I guess that squares things.”

“What’s happened, what’s happened?” asked a panting voice, and then I knew ’at Horace hadn’t been able to stand it any longer, and had come in, game wing and all.

“We’ve settled up with Ty Jones—that’s what’s happened,” said Olaf; and as we stood there in the gloom, the drip o’ the dawn came rollin’ cold and gray down the slant o’ the tunnel; and I shuddered and turned away to find somethin’ for my hands to do.