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Impossible as it seemed, the ranger might have done it but for an

accident. In the struggle, the rope had slipped to a point just

below his knees. Fighting his way down the hill, foot by foot,

the Texan felt the rope tighten. One of his attackers flung

himself against his chest and he was tripped. The pack was on him

again. Here there was more light, and though for a time the mass

swayed back and forth, at last they hammered him down by main

strength. He was bound hand and foot, and dragged back to the

grove.

They faced their victim, panting deeply from their exertions.

Fraser looked round upon the circle of distorted faces, and

stopped at one. Seen now, with the fury and malignancy of its

triumph painted upon it, the face was one to bring bad dreams.

The lieutenant, his chest still laboring heavily, racked with the

torture of his torn shoulder, looked into that face out of the

only calm eyes in the group.

"So it's you, Struve?"

"Yes, it's me--me and my friends."