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His first thought was that, in accordance with dance etiquette in

the ranch country, his revolver was in its holster under the seat

of the trap in which they had driven over. Since his week was not

up, he had expected no attack from Jed and his friends. As for

the enemy, of whom Arlie had advised him, surely a public dance

was the last place to tempt one who apparently preferred to

attack from cover. But his instinct was certain. He did not need

to look round to know he was trapped.

"I'm unarmed. You'd better come round and shoot me from in front.

It will look better at the inquest," he said quietly.

"Don't move. You're surrounded," a voice answered.