abandoned it at the very sight of
these men. There was power here, and he was bound.

The big man spoke in low, hoarse whispers, and at this all the others
gathered around him close to the table. There were evidently some signs
of membership not plain to Duane. Then all the heads were bent over the
table. Low voices spoke, queried, answered, argued. By straining his
ears Duane caught a word here and there. They were planning, and they
were brief. Duane gathered they were to have a rendezvous at or near
Ord.

Then the big man, who evidently was the leader of the present
convention, got up to depart. He went as swiftly as he had come, and was
followed by his comrades. Longstreth prepared for a quiet smoke. Lawson
seemed uncommunicative and unsociable. He smoked fiercely and drank
continually. All at once he straightened up as if listening.

"What's that?" he called, suddenly.

Duane's strained ears were pervaded by a slight rustling sound.

"Must be a rat," replied Longstreth.

The rustle became a rattle.

"Sounds like a rattlesnake to me," said Lawson.

Longstreth got up from the table and peered round the room.

Just at that instant Duane felt an almost inappreciable movement of the
adobe wall which supported him. He could scarcely credit his senses. But
the rattle inside Longstreth's room was mingling with little dull thuds
of falling dirt. The adobe wall, merely dried mud, was crumbling. Duane
distinctly felt a tremor pass through it. Then the blood gushed back to
his heart.

"What in the hell!" exclaimed Longstreth.

"I smell dust," said Lawson, sharply.

That was the signal for Duane to drop down from his perch, yet despite
his care he made a noise.

"Did you hear a step?" queried Longstreth.

No one answered. But a heavy piece of the adobe wall fell with a thud.
Duane heard it crack, felt it shake.

"There's somebody between the walls!" thundered Longstreth.

Then a section of the wall fell inward with a crash. Duane began to
squeeze his body through the narrow passage toward the patio.

"Hear him!" yelled Lawson. "This side!"

"No, he's going that way," yelled Longstreth.

The tramp of heavy boots lent Duane the strength of desperation. He
was not shirking a fight, but to be cornered like a trapped coyote was
another matter. He almost tore his clothes off in that passage. The dust
nearly stifled him. When he burst into the patio it was not a single
instant too soon. But one deep gasp of br