Andrew sat with the butt of his rifle ground into his forehead. It was still easy to escape; the insistent whisper from the floor was pointing out the way: "Beat it out that back window, lad. Slope, Andy; they's no use. You can't help me. They mean fire; they'll pot you like a pig, from the dark. Give me up!"

It was the advice to use the window that decided Andrew. It was a wild chance indeed, this leaving of Dozier helpless on the floor; but he risked it. He whispered to the marshal that he would return, and slipped through the window. He was not halfway around the house before he heard a voice that chilled him with horror. It was the marshal calling to them that Andrew was gone and inviting them in to finish him. But they suspected, naturally enough, that the invitation was a trap, and they contented themselves with abusing him for thinking them such fools.

Andrew went on; fifty feet from the house and just aside from the shaft of light that fell from the open door, stood Scottie. His head was bare, his face was turned up to catch the wind, and no doubt he was dreaming of the future which lay before him as the new captain of Allister's band. The whisper of Andrew behind him cut his dream short. He whirled to receive the muzzle of a revolver in his stomach. His hands went up, and he stood gasping faintly in the moonlight.

"I've got you, Scottie," he said, "and so help me heaven, you're the first man that I've wanted to kill."

It would have taken a man of supernerve to outface that situation. And the nerve of Scottie cracked.

He began to whisper with a horrible break and sob in his breath: "Andy—Andy, gimme a chance. I'm not fit to go—this way. Andy, remember—"

"I'm going to give you a chance. You're pretty low, Scottie; I check what you've done to the way you hate Dozier, and I won't hold a grudge. And I'll tell you the chance you've got. You see these rocks, here? I'm goin' to lie down behind them. I'm going to keep you covered with my rifle. Scottie, did you ever see me shoot with a rifle?"

Scottie shuddered—a very sufficient reply.

"I'm going to keep you covered. Then you'll turn around and walk straight back to the shack. You'll stand there—always in clean sight of the doorway—and you'll persuade that crowd of drunks to leave the house and ride away with you. Understand, when you get inside the house, there'll be a big temptation to jump to one side and get behind the wall—just one twitch of your muscles, and you'd be safe. But, fast as you could move, Scottie, powder drives lead a lot faster. And I'll have you centered every minute. You'll make a pretty little target against the light, besides. You understand?

"The moment you even start to move fast, I pull the trigger. Remember it, Scottie. For as sure as there's a hell, I'll send you into it head first, if you don't." "So help me heaven," said Scottie, "I'll do what I can. I think I can talk 'em into it. But if I don't?"

"If you don't, you're dead. That's short, and that's sweet. Keep it in your head. Go back and tell them it would take too great a risk to try to fix me.

"And there's another thing to remember. If you should be able to get behind the wall without being shot, you're not safe. Not by a long way, Scottie. I'd still be alive. And, though you'd have Hal Dozier there to cut up as you pleased, I'd be here outside the cabin watching it—with my rifle. And I'd tag some of you when you tried to get out. And if I didn't get you all I'd start on your trail. Scottie, you fellows, even when you had Allister to lead you, couldn't get off scot-free from Dozier. Scottie, I give you my solemn word of honor, you'll find me a harder man to get free from than Hal Dozier.

"Here's the last thing: If you do what I tell you—if you get that crowd of drunken brutes out of the cabin and away without harming Dozier, I'll wipe out the score between us. No matter what you told the rest of them, you know I've never broken a promise, and that I never shall."

He stopped and, stepping back to the rocks, sank slowly down behind them. Only the muzzle of his rifle showed, no more than the glint of a tiny bit of quartz; his left hand was raised, and, at its gesture, Scottie turned and walked slowly toward the cabin doorway. Once, stumbling over something, he reeled almost out of the shaft of light, but stopped on the edge of safety with a terrible trembling. There he stood for a moment, and Andrew knew that he was gathering his nerve. He went on; he stood in the doorway, leaning with one arm against it.

What followed Andrew could not hear, except an occasional roar from Rankin. Once Larry la Roche came and stood before the new leader, gesturing frantically, and the ring of his voice came clearly to Andrew. The Scotchman negligently stood to one side; the way between Andrew and Larry was cleared, and Andrew could not help smiling at the fiendish malevolence of Scottie. But he was apparently able to convince even Larry la Roche by means of words. At length there was a bustling in the cabin, a loud confusion, and finally the whole troop went out. Somebody brought Scottie his saddle; Jeff Rankin came out reeling.

But Scottie stirred last from the doorway; there he stood in the shaft of light until some one, cursing, brought him his horse. He mounted it in full view. Then the cavalcade started down the ravine.

Certainly it was not an auspicious beginning for Scottie Macdougal.

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