“Onct you ’most loved me.... But it wouldn’t have done. I’m a wolf and you’re a little white lamb. Is Flatray the man?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. Well, he’s square. I rigged it up on him about the rustling. I was the man you liked to ’a’ caught that day years ago.”
“You!”
“Yep.” He broke off abruptly. “I’m going, 273 girl.... It’s gittin’ black. Hold my hand till—till——”
He gave a shudder and seemed to fall together. He was dead.
Melissy heard the sound of rubble slipping. Some one was lowering himself cautiously down the side of the cañon. A man dropped to the wash and strutted toward her. He kept his eyes fixed on the lifeless form, rifle ready for action at an instant’s notice. When he reached his victim he pushed the body with his foot, made sure of no trap, and relaxed his alertness.
“Dead as a hammer.”
The man was MacQueen. He turned to Melissy and nodded jauntily.
“Good evening, my dear. Just taking a little stroll?” he asked ironically.