ritative voice.

Many feet tramped upon the floor above them. Then they heard the rug
stripped back. There was an exclamation from the sheriff and the sound
of moving feet suddenly was stilled.

"Is there any one in the cellar?" the sheriff called.

Silence--with Lamy pressing Rathburn's knee with a hand, and Rathburn
smiling that queer, grim smile which conveyed so much, yet nothing
which was tangible.

"Get around here, you fellows," they heard the sheriff order.

The sound of boots and spurs attested to the quickness with which his
order was obeyed.

Rathburn leaned down suddenly and with lightning swiftness jerked
Lamy's gun from its holster near his side. He tossed the weapon to a
corner of the dark cellar just as the sheriff's voice was heard
again.

"Coyote, if you're down there I'm not going to take a chance fumbling
with that door. If you ain't there, then there won't be any harm in
what I'm going to do. If I don't hear anything when I finish talking
I'm going to give the signal to my men to start shooting through the
floor--and I mean it. If anybody's down there it'd be good sense to
flip up that door and crawl out hands first, an' those hands empty."

"Sheriff, you're bluffing!" said Rathburn loudly.

Then the sheriff spoke again in an exultant tone. "I figured it was
the best hidin' place you could find, Coyote. You're right; I was sort
of bluffing, but I might have changed my mind an' gone on through with
it. We've got you dead to rights, Coyote; you haven't got a chance.
There's seven of us now an' every man is ready to open up if you come
out of there a-shooting."

Rathburn slipped his gun back into his holster. He raised the trapdoor
slowly until it tipped back on the floor leaving the opening into the
cellar clear.

"Two of 'em!" he heard some one exclaim.

He looked up to accustom his eyes to the light and saw a dozen guns
covering him.

"Gentlemen, the landscape fairly bristles with artillery," he said
amiably. "Who's the sheriff? And--there's Jud Brown. Who let you
loose, Jud?"

"I'm Sheriff Neal," interposed that individual, a slight, dark man
with a bristly mustache. "Come out of there--hands free."

"For the time being, eh, sheriff? I expect you figure on fixing those
hands so they won't be free, eh? Well, all I've got to say is that I
hope you won't spend the money foolishly, sheriff."

Rathburn leaped lightly out of the cellar.

"Keep that other man down there covered, too