The two miners were both armed, and were not slow in accepting the challenge. Simultaneously they raised their rifles and fired at the two men. The result was that both fell seriously wounded and Caesar set up a howl of dismay, not so much for his masters as from alarm for himself.
Fred and Otto came forward, and stood looking down upon the outlaws, who were in the agonies of death.
“It was our lives or theirs,” said Fred coolly, for he had been long enough in Montana to become used to scenes of bloodshed.
“Yes,” answered Otto. “I think these two men are the notorious Dixon brothers who are credited with a large number of murders. The country will be well rid of them.”
Roderick turned his glazing eyes upon the tall miner. “I wish I had killed you,” he muttered.
“No doubt you do. It wouldn’t have been your first murder.”
“Don’t kill me, massa!” pleaded Caesar in tones of piteous entreaty.
“I don’t know,” answered Fred. “That depends on yourself. If you obey us strictly we will spare you.”
“Try me, massa!”
“You black hound!” said Roderick hoarsely. “If I were not disabled I’d kill you myself.”