There was a movement inside the cabin; then the door opened.
“Come in!” said a man’s voice out of the darkness.
Lennox dragged himself inside and lay half-fainting on the floor, gasping for breath.
Outside he could hear the sounds of the Quintell men approaching the shack. Then the voice of his unknown deliverer broke quietly through the place.
“Stop where you are, strangers!”
A heavy silence followed his words.
“We’re deputy sheriffs, pal. You’ve got a man in there we want,” said one of the men gruffly.
“Let’s see yore authority. Depities kin always flash a tin buzzer. Let’s see yourn.”
“Never mind the authority. Do you turn him over or not?”
The occupant of the shack gave a low chuckle. “You sure talk like a depity, sport,” he said in genial tones. “But don’t you never let Sheriff Warburton hear you make a crack like that——”