“You talk of cowards,” he said; “you are four, and each has his pistols and rifle; I have none and one arm is wounded, but I defy you!”

“Come, come,” said the leader, “this will do you no good; we’re bound to have that man, and if he won’t come out we must go after him.  If you stand in the way we’ll pitch you aside.  We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Advance at your peril—­”

“Fred, move a little to the left—­that will do.  I’ve got a bead on him now.”

It was the voice of Mont Sterry, a few feet away, in the darkness of the room.  The muzzle of his rifle, however, projected just enough to reflect the moonlight, and it was leveled at the breast of Larch Cadmus.

“One step,” added Sterry, “and you’re a dead man.”

“Larch Cadmus,” said Fred, thrilled by the occurrence, “for we recognize you despite those whiskers, I never knew Mont Sterry to break his word!”

Language cannot do justice to the situation.  At the very moment the miscreant was about to advance to hurl Whitney from his path he was confronted by the muzzle of a loaded rifle, held by a man who was in deadly earnest, and who realized he was at bay.

The startled ruffian recoiled a step and stared into the darkened room, as if he failed to grasp the situation.

“Not a step in any direction,” said Sterry, warningly; “if you attempt to retreat, advance, or move aside, I’ll fire.”

It would be a rash thing for any one to deny that the young inspector had secured the “drop” on Larch Cadmus.

But the man was accustomed to violence, and it took him but a minute to rally.

“Pretty well done, I’ll own,” he said, with a forced laugh; “but what good is it going to do you?  There are three more of us here and a half-dozen hardly a hundred yards away.”

“And what good will they do you?”

“Spark,” said Cadmus, “slip back to the boys and give ’em the tip; we’ll see about this thing.”

“The moment Spark or either of the other two stirs I’ll let the moonlight through you! I’m going to keep my gun pointed right at you, Mr. Cadmus.  If those fellows think I’m worth more than you, they have a chance to prove it, for only one of them has to take the first step to leave, when I’ll press this trigger just a little harder than now.  More than that, if one of them shouts, whistles, or makes any kind of a signal, I’ll do as I threaten.  If any man doesn’t think so, let him make the trial.”

“Well, I’ll be hanged!” muttered Larch Cadmus; “this is a go!”

Judging from the new turn of affairs, it looked as if a single individual had the “drop” on four others.

It struck Larch Cadmus that this was a good occasion for something in the nature of a compromise.

“See here, Sterry,” he said, assuming an affected jocularity which deceived no one, “I’ll own you’ve played it on me mighty fine.  But you can’t stand there all night with your Winchester p’inted at me, and bime-by I’ll git tired; can’t we fix the matter up some way?”