ere the rancher had been standing.

But Jeff was no longer there. There had been a simultaneous clatter of
falling bunk boards. There was the rustling of straw. Then a sound of
scrambling, and, after that, a dead silence. The darkness was complete
except for the faint silhouette of the windows against the dim
starlight beyond them.

Jeff had taken the big chance. What remained now must be met as
circumstance permitted. The blood in him was fired. The savage
delight of battle. He would sell the last breath in his body at the
highest price he could make his enemies pay. He had walked into a trap
laid by the rustlers, headed, perhaps, by Sikkem Bruce, with his eyes
wide open, and some almost insane yearning made him glad.

Now he crouched down against the wall beside the table. He had flung
up a barrier of straw palliasse before him. It was not as a protection
against gun-fire, but to screen his movements should his opponents
produce a light. Then, too, there was another thought in his mind.

The place became alive with sounds, voiceless, muffled sounds of
cautious movement. It was the movement of men who know that death is
lurking at every turn. Nor could they tell whence it was most likely
to come. It was a moment of tense and straining nerves wherein the wit
of one man had discounted the elaborate plan to murder of those whose
indifference to death only shrank from the contemplation of their own.

Jeff's eyes strained against the darkness. The windows stood out in
silhouette. From these he had no fear. He knew, and he knew that
these ruffians would know, the dangers attending themselves from any
attack upon him from such a direction. The advantage would be entirely
his, since he had possessed himself of Sikkem's complete arsenal. He
knew it was for him to await the fire of these men, every shot of which
would yield him a sure target.

A flash broke the blackness ahead of him. The bullet sank into the
woodwork just above his head with a vicious splash. But he refrained
from reply. Another crack split the silence, and the wall to the left
of him flung back its response. Still he offered no reply.

His eyes were searching, searching. And a surge of excitement suddenly
thrilled him.

Two shots came on the same instant. One slithered hotly in the flesh
of his shoulder, but the other struck wide of him.

The wound gave him no concern. Every sense, every faculty was
concentrated on one thou