“Eh?  What?  Guess you ain’t well.”  The icy tones mocked at the distraught captive.

The money-lender checked his wrath and struggled to keep cool.

“My cattle are on the range.  You could never have driven off twenty thousand head.  It would have been impossible without my hearing of it.  It is more than one night’s work.”

“That’s so,” replied the half-breed, smiling sardonically.  “Say, your hands and foreman are shut up in their shack.  They’ve bin taking things easy fur a day or two.  Jest to give my boys a free hand.  Guess we’ve been at work here these three days.”

The money-lender groaned inwardly.  He understood the Breed’s meaning only too well.  At last his bottled-up rage broke out again.

“Are you man or devil that you spirit away great herds like this.  Across the keg, I know, but how—­how?  Twenty thousand!  My God, you’ll swing for this night’s work,” he went on impotently.  “The whole countryside will be after you.  I am not the man to sit down quietly under such handling.  If I spend every cent I’m possessed of, you shall be hounded down until you dare not show your face on this side of the border.”

“Easy, boss,” the Breed retorted imperturbably.  “Ef you want to see that precious store o’ yours again a civil tongue ’ll help you best.  I’m mostly a patient man—­easy goin’-like.  Now jest keep calm an’ I’ll let you see the fun.  Now that’s a neat shack o’ yours,” he went on, pointing to the money-lender’s mansion.  “Wonder ef I could put a dose o’ lead into one o’ the windows from here.”

Lablache began to think he was dealing with a madman.  He remained silent, and the Breed leveled his pistol in the direction of the house and fired.  A moment’s silence followed the sharp report.  Then Retief turned to his captive.

“Guess I didn’t hear any glass smash.  Likely I missed it,” and he chuckled fiendishly.  Lablache sat gazing moodily at the building.  Then the half-breed’s voice roused him.  “Hello, wot’s that?” He was pointing at the house.  “Why, some galoot’s lightin’ a bonfire!  Say, that’s dangerous Lablache.  They might fire your place.”

But the other did not answer.  His eyes were staring wide with horror.  As if in answer to the pistol-shot a fire had been lit against the side of the house.  It was no ordinary fire, either, but a great pile of hay.  The flames shot up with terrible swiftness, licking up the side of the red pine house with lightning rapidity.  Lablache understood.  The house was to be demolished, and Retief had given the signal.  He leapt up from his seat, forgetful of his bound feet, and made as though to seize the Breed by the throat.  He got no further, however, for Retief gripped him by the shoulder, and, notwithstanding his great bulk, hurled him back on to the barrel, at the same time pressing the muzzle of his pistol into his face.