"Well, it can't be helped," said Broom, with an oath. "I'll get rid of these, anyhow."
"You'll spoil no more games of mine!" he told them. "Get the ropes, there, men!"
"What are you goin' to do?" asked one of Broom's men.
"String them up," replied Broom, with a brutal laugh. "Hanging leaves no evidence behind. No weapons—no wounds to show the sort of a blow that killed. There's good advice for you, my friend. If you want to get rid of an enemy, hang him!"
All three of the prisoners had been gagged. They had to stand silent, now, while the rope was placed about their necks. They were all forced to stand under the spreading branch of a big tree, and the ropes were thrown over it.
"We'll let them swing all together, now," said Broom. "When I give the word! Plenty of time, though! We'll let them have a minute or two to think it over."
"NOW!" cried a voice in the woods beyond the small circle of light from Broom's electric torch.
A second later the click of falling hammers fell on the air. And, even as Broom turned, a dozen men stepped into the light, with leveled rifles, covering every one of the gang that Broom had gathered to make his trap.
"Fire if they make a single movement!" ordered Jim Burroughs. "Good work, Pete! Release them now! You brought us here—it's only fair to let you turn them loose, you and Tom Binns."
"Go ahead and shoot!" yelled Broom, suddenly, and made a dash for the woods. A dozen rifles spoke out, but he crashed away in the darkness, and one or two of the others ran also.