cabin was on fire.

Nothing could have happened to take the besiegers more by surprise.
There was hasty questioning but no explanation. Of all the
possibilities of the night none could have been so unexpected. But
whatever the cause, and theories were broached fast, the cabin was
ablaze. Smoke could be seen pouring through the chinks in the roof and
little tongues of flame darted out at the rear under the eaves. Though
there was not a breath of air stirring, the roof within fifteen minutes
was in flames and the cowboys, confident of victory, set up, Indian
fashion, their death chant for Dutch Henry.

The old shack made a good fire. The roof collapsed and with the
incantations of the cowboys, the stout walls, worm-eaten and
bullet-splintered, falling gradually, blazed on.

"The jig's up here, boys," announced Van Horn, as the fire burned down.
"The two biggest thieves on the range are accounted for. It's a good
job. If I guess right you'll find the Dutchman in the fire. Yankee
Robinson's next. He won't put up much of a fight, but the hardest man
to get is still ahead of us. This was a boy's job beside rounding up
Abe Hawk. He'll never be taken alive, because he knows what's comin'
to him.

"There's not a minute to lose now. Stone and I will take two of your
men, Barb, and round up Yankee Robinson. From there we'll ride over to
Abe's place on the Turkey. About our only chance is to catch him
before he's up. If he's got wind of this, we'll have a hell of a chase
to get him. Feed the horses, the rest of you eat, and we're off! You
can follow us with Pettigrew and the bunch, Doubleday, just as soon as
you look the cabin over after daylight." Within half an hour Van Horn
and Stone and the two men crossed the creek, rode into the hills and
disappeared into the night.

Setting a watch, Doubleday and his men curled up on the ground. When
earliest dawn streaked the sky the logs were still smoking, and the
cowboys, rifles in hand, walked down to where the cabin had stood.

Everything within the walls had been consumed. Long after daylight,
with some of the men asleep, and others waiting for the fire to cool,
one of Doubleday's cowboys, poking about the sill log of the rear wall
with a stick, gave a shout. What had been taken for a half-burned log
was the charred body of a man. The invaders gathered and the body was
presently declared by those who knew him well to be that of Dutch
Henry. There was not