As the light faded still more he arose quickly, rifle in hand, and started on a run for the hut. As he ran he felt that it was far from impossible that another shot might bring sudden death to him. Still he did not hesitate, and, running steadily, he came up to the hut.
The door swung open before his hand. He looked[Pg 71] in. It was not so dark as to hide a black figure that lay sprawled on the dirt floor.
Frank shuddered a little, and felt like turning away at once.
"He brought it on himself!" he whispered. "It was my life or his. But I'm sorry I had to do it."
Then he entered the hut. Striking a match, he bent over the prostrate figure. The reflected light, coming from his hollowed hands, showed him a familiar face.
"Big Monte!" he cried, starting back and dropping the match.
It was in truth the big man who had been one of Cimarron Bill's paid satellites.
He found the man's wrist and felt for his pulse.
"Good Lord!" Merry cried.
Big Monte's pulse flickered beneath his fingers. The ruffian still lived.