“How shed I know?” replied Rube. “What do ’e want?”

“Why, he wants”—Garey’s voice rose louder with indignation—“he wants us to give up the ranger-captain; an sez, if we do, you an me can go free. Ha, ha, ha!” and the young trapper ended his announcement with a scornful laugh.

Simultaneous with Garey’s laugh, I could hear Rube utter a low whistle, and the words, “Thet’s how the stick floats;” and then raising his voice, he called out—

“An what answer hev you gin him, Billee?”

“I hain’t answered him yet,” was the prompt reply: “but hyar’s the answer!”

I saw Garey’s arm raised, with his huge fist clenched; I saw it descend like a trip-hammer upon the face of the Mexican, who under the blow fell heavily to the earth.


Chapter Thirty Two.

A Dead Shot.