“Who are you?” he finally panted, nigh overcome with exertion.
“That’s nothin’ to you,” gritted the other, huskily. “I’m after yer scalp an’ I’m goin’ ter have it.”
“Not if I can prevent,” retorted Frank.
“Ye can’t help yerself.”
“Perhaps not.”
“Ye’d better give in at onct. If ye’ll surrender now I’ll spare yer life an’ take ye down to Costello.”
“I have no intention of surrendering to you.”
“Ye don’t, eh?”
“No.”
“Curse ye, then I’ll kill ye!”