One of our men comin' in from
the stables caught you spyin' through the winder. He gave yer one on the
nob, and dragged yer in here. Now, who are yer, where do yer come from
and what are yer doin' in these parts. Speak quick now, or by----" and he
broke into a torrent of vile oaths and death-dealing threats, while he
fingered nervously the knife that hung in his belt.
Before Bert could reply one of the band entered the room. He glanced at
the prisoner, and a sudden recognition leaped to his eyes.
"I know that feller," he exclaimed excitedly, turning to his chief. "I
couldn't just place him last night when his eyes was shut, but now I'm
plumb sure of him. He's livin' over to the Melton ranch with a couple of
pals of his'n. Seen him there more than once. Ain't that straight?" to
Bert.
"Yes," said Bert boldly, "that's straight."
The man's identification was absolute and the time for silence or evasion
was past. He was trapped and absolutely in their power. That they would
kill him he had little doubt. A life more or less meant little to these
ruthless scoundrels.
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