if shielding them from that horrible
vision, a voice, deep and strident, rang out:

"Mike an' me have got the two cusses covered Mr. Winston. If they
move, or you give us the highball, we 'll plug 'em dead centre!"

CHAPTER XXII

THE INTERVENTION OF SWANSON

Hayes never changed his position, nor removed his eyes from Winston,
his right hand still resting upon the butt of his "45," his lips set in
rigid line. The engineer, the mist partially clearing from his brain,
retained no thought except for Farnham, who remained motionless,
staring over his head into the black, threatening muzzle of Stutter
Brown's levelled gun. These were Western men; they recognized
instantly the potency of "the drop," the absolute certainty of death if
they stirred a muscle. They could only wait, breathless, uncertain,
the next move in this desperate game. To Winston it seemed an hour he
hesitated, his mind a chaos, temptation buffeting him remorselessly.
He saw the sheriff's face set hard, and resolute behind its iron-gray
beard; he marked the reckless sneer curling Farnham's lips, the livid
mark under his eye where he had struck him. The intense hatred he felt
for this man swept across him fiercely, for an instant driving out of
his heart all thought of mercy. As suddenly he remembered the helpless
woman yonder, within easy view, possibly even then upon her knees in
supplication. It was this conception that aroused him. He withdrew
his dull gaze from off that hateful, mocking face, his clenched hands
opening, his mind responding to a new-born will. "Vengeance is mine; I
will repay, saith the Lord"--like an echo, perhaps from the very prayer
her lips were speaking, the solemn words came into his consciousness.
With face white, and lips trembling, he stepped suddenly back, and
flung up one hand.

"Don't fire, boys!" he commanded, his voice ringing clear and
purposeful. "Drop your guns; it's all right. This is my game, and I
intend to play it out alone."

Farnham laughed, the quick reaction possibly affecting even his iron
nerves. Winston whirled and fronted him, the gray eyes blazing.

"Damn you, you sneaking, sneering brute!" he burst forth. "You thief,
you woman-beater, you unspeakable cur! I surrender to the sheriff of
Gulpin County, not to you. I 've got the evidence to send you to the
penitentiary, and I 'll do it, even though I stand myself in the shadow
of death while I bear witness to your infamy. You thin