“You might be some kind of a deputy or something.”
Rathburn laughed harshly. “It just happens I’m the man some folks call The Coyote,” he said. “I don’t like the name, but it was wished on me, an’ I can’t seem to shake it off. If I wasn’t the man you think I am you wouldn’t be in such a tight fix, Sautee.”
Rathburn’s words conveyed a subtle menace which was not lost on the mine manager. Sautee cringed and rubbed his hands in his nervous tension.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Listen!” exclaimed Rathburn.
From below came the echoes of shouts and other sounds which conveyed the intelligence that a large body of men was on the move up to the mine and the mountain slope above.
“They’re after me,” said Rathburn bitterly. “They think I stole the pay-rolls. They can’t get me, Sautee––not alive. An’ if they get me the other way I’m goin’ to see to it somehow that I don’t get blamed for these jobs up here. Now, do you begin to see daylight?”
Sautee wet his dry lips. The figure on the floor stirred. The shouts from below sounded more distinct.
Rathburn’s gun leaped into his hand. “You better start hoping the shootin’ don’t begin till we understand each other, Sautee,” he said grimly. “We’ve come to the show-down!”