"What is it?" she asked. "Who is there?"
"I don't know," he replied. "There are men out there. They want me to open the door. Do you know where there's a gun in the house? I haven't——"
The impact of a heavy body cut him short. The lock gave way, and the door swung inward. Wade sprang back and caught up a chair. Framed in the door, silhouetted against the outer blackness, appeared a man. His hat was pulled low over his eyes. A handkerchief cut with eyeholes concealed his face. His right hand held a six-shooter, with which he covered Wade. Back of him, pressing forward, were other armed men.
"Put that chair down!" he ordered. "Nobody's goin' to hurt you."
"Glad to hear it!" snapped Wade, who was the fortunate owner of unlimited sand. "What do you mean by breaking into a house in the middle of the night and frightening women? If you want money I've got about fifty dollars, and that's all. You're welcome to it if you'll clear out."
"Keep it," the intruder returned contemptuously. He stepped into the room, followed by four others. "I guess your name is Wade. We don't want you. We want McHale."
"Well, I haven't got him," said Wade.
"Where is he?"
"What do you want with him?"
"That's none of your business."