“Are your eyes better than the others’?” asked Fred.

“They don’t have to be,” replied Cadmus, speaking for him.  “While we stayed in front of the house, Spark stole round to the rear, where none of your family seen him.  He got to the corner and had a good look at both of you.”

“Does he know Sterry?” inquired Fred, purposely raising his voice, that his friend, standing a few feet away within the house, should not miss a word.

“He don’t know him, but I do, and the description Spark gives fits the man we’re after to a T. We want him.”

“But the notice you gave Sterry allowed him twenty-four hours’ grace.  Why do you ask for him now?”

“Them was my sentiments, but when I joined the party under Inman, a little while ago, he told me the boys had reconsidered that matter, and decided that after what Sterry has done, and tried to do, I hadn’t any right to make the promise.”

“That may be their decision, but it cannot affect yours; you are bound by the pledge you made in writing to him.”

Larch Cadmus, like his companions, was growing impatient.  He said: 

“I haven’t come here to argue the matter with you; I’ve come after my man, and am going to have him.”

“And I repeat what I said:  he left more than two hours ago, and you have no business to come here.”

“Do you mean to tell me he isn’t in the house?” demanded Cadmus, with rising temper.

“I refuse to answer, but I do say that neither you nor any of your gang shall enter my home, where are my mother and sister, their hearts stricken by your murderous doings of yesterday, except over my dead body.”

“We don’t like to disturb the ladies,” said Cadmus, “but we mean business; we have promised the boys to bring back that fellow; but I’ll make a proposition.”

“What is it?”

“If you will say that Mont Sterry is not in there, we’ll go away without disturbing any one; we’ll take your word.”

“I recognize no right of yours to question me,” was the scornful reply of Fred Whitney.

“Boys,” said Cadmus, turning again to his companions, “that’s only another way of owning up that the coward is hiding here, afraid to meet us; he’s our game.”

CHAPTER XVII.

A delicate situation.

Few men possessed more courage than Fred Whitney, and he was thoroughly aroused.

Sitting in front of his own home during the evening, it naturally happened that he was without any weapon at immediate command.  His Winchester and revolvers, his inseparable companions, during those stirring times, whenever away from home, were inside.  It need not be said that every one of the rustlers had his “guns” in his possession, so he was a single, defenceless man against four armed ones.

Nevertheless, he strode forward in front of the open door, determined to make good his threat.