That he had fired to kill the bullet-wound in the breast, and the motionless form of the driver as he lay back upon the top of the coach, were in evidence.
Now he stood the chance himself of life and death, and he awaited the ordeal with white, but calm face.
The horses had stopped in their tracks, and though no other persons were visible the stranger looked for others to appear. The thought flashed across him that he must lose all he had with him, but his life he could not believe was in danger, yet why the masked road-agent had killed Dockery without mercy he could not understand.
"Do you mean to take my life, man?"
"That depends whether it is worth more to kill you than to let you live," was the businesslike reply.
But hardly had he spoken when from out of the coach window came a flash and report. The miner within, awakening to a sense of his danger, had taken a hand in the affair.
The bullet barely missed the head of the masked horseman, who at once returned the fire, aiming first, however, at the young man on the box.
With a groan the latter fell heavily to the ground, his revolver half-drawn from its holster, and the murderer, leaping from his saddle, took refuge among the horses while he called out:
"I have killed your two comrades, and you share the same fate unless you surrender."
"I cry quits, pard," came in frightened tones from the coach, and the man was evidently now sobered and greatly alarmed.