“And why should I open my door to you? Had you come as a friend you would have been welcome; but as you come as a foe I will meet you as you deserve.”
“The Branded Brotherhood do not parley long, old man,” suddenly rang out a clear, stern voice.
Then, with a few heavy blows the door was crushed in, and one of the Brotherhood rushed across the threshold, to fall dead by a shot from Edgar’s rifle through the heart.
Another shared the same fate at the hands of Alfred Carter. Then into the cabin poured a score of desperate men, and the brave old settler fell beneath a sweeping blow from the chief’s fist, just as Red Roark brought the butt of his pistol down upon the head of Edgar.
“Ha, spare the women!” the chief cried.
But the order was too late to save poor Mrs. Carter, who, with a shriek of terror and agony, met her death at the hands of one of the band, while another seized the fainting Rose around the waist, crying:
“I’ve got the richest prize; the gal’s mine!”
One glance in the beautiful face, and the bandit chief staggered back, his hand upon his head, while he cried aloud:
“God in heaven! Who is that girl?”
“It don’t make no difference, chief, who she mout be, but she’s my prize,” insolently replied the ruffian, who still held her in his arms.