“There need be no hard feeling between us, Hayes,” he said pleasantly.  “You ’re only doing your sworn duty; I understand that.  But there ’s something rotten in this affair somewhere.  All I ask is a square deal.”

“An’ yer kin bet you’ll git it, Mr. Winston, er Sam Hayes will find out why.  This yere ‘Independence’ outfit is no favorites o’ mine, an’ if the whole difficulty turns out ter be nothin’ but a minin’ squabble, the jury ain’t likely ter be very hard on yer.  That’s my way o’ figgerin’ on it, from what little I know.”  He glanced keenly about, seeking to gain a clearer idea of their immediate surroundings.  “Maybe you an’ Swanson better mosey back yonder to the cabin, where I can keep an eye on you easy, while I send after the hosses.  Farnham, climb back on top of the dump there, an’ give them boys the signal to come on.”

The gambler removed his hat, running one hand carelessly through his hair, his thin lips sufficiently parted to reveal his white teeth.

“I hardly think we are exactly done yet, Mr. Sheriff,” he said sarcastically.  “I ’m not very much worried regarding your suddenly expressed sympathy for this fellow, or your desire to get him off unscratched; but I feel compelled to insist upon receiving all the law allows me in this game we ’re playing.  There ’s another warrant in your pocket for Winston.”

“By thunder, yes; I ’d clear forgot it,” fumbling at his papers.

“Well, I had n’t; matter of some personal importance to me,” the voice taking on a lazy, insolent drawl.  “Of course, the fellow is under arrest all right, but that murder business is only part of it—­I want my wife.”

Winston started forward, crouching as though he would spring directly at the other’s throat.

“Your wife?” he exclaimed madly, his voice choking.  “Your wife?  You ’ve sworn out a warrant for me on account of your wife?”

“Something of that nature, I believe,” gazing at him insolently.  “Abduction I think the lawyers call it, and I notice you ’ve got the lady hidden away back yonder now.”  He pointed across the other’s shoulder.  “Caught with the goods.  Oh, you ’re a fine preacher of morals, but I ’ve got you dead to rights this time.”

Winston stood as though carven from stone, his face deathly white, his lips compressed, his gray eyes burning, never wavering from that mocking face.  With all his strength of will he battled back the first mad impulse to throttle the man, to crush him into shapeless pulp.  For one awful moment his mind became a chaos, his blood throbbing fire.  To kill would be joy, a relief inexpressible.  Farnham realized the impulse, and drew back, not shrinking away, but bracing for the contest.  But the engineer gripped himself in time.

“Hayes,” he ejaculated hoarsely, “let the lady decide this.  If she says no, then, by God, I ’ll fight you all single-handed before he ever puts touch upon her!”