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Jed laughed, and the sound of it was sinister.

"Couldn't hit the side of a house, could you? You're nothing but

a cheap skate, a tin-horn gambler, run down at the heels. All

right. I'm through with you. Lieutenant Fraser, from Texas, can

come along and collect whenever he likes. I'll not protect a

false alarm like you any longer."

Struve looked at him, as a cornered wolf might have done. "What

will you do?"

"I'll give you up to him. I'll tell him to come in and get you.

I'll show him the way in, you white-livered cur!" bullied the

cattleman, giving way to one of his rages.

"You'd better not," snarled the convict. "Not if you want to

live."

As they stood facing each other in a panting fury the door

opened, to let in Siegfried and the ranger.

Jed's rage against Struve died on the spot. He saw his enemy, the

ranger, before him, and leaped to the conclusion that he had come

to this hidden retreat to run him down for the Squaw Creek

murders. Instantly, his hand swept to the hilt of his revolver.