“Well, go ahead—but you won't take the girl!”
Snap Naab swung off the step, slamming the door behind him.
“So-ho!” he exclaimed, sneeringly. “That's why you've made me foreman, eh?” His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly upward while his pale eyes strove to pierce the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic smile.
“Naab, you don't get the girl.”
“Maybe you'll get her?” hissed Snap.
“I always intended to.”
Surely never before had passion driven Snap's hand to such speed. His Colt gleamed in the camp-fire light. Click! Click! Click! The hammer fell upon empty chambers.
“H—l!” he shrieked.
Holderness laughed sarcastically.
“That's where you're going!” he cried. “Here's to Naab's trick with a gun—Bah!” And he shot his foreman through the heart.