Stacy last night--he jest
run inter ther ruction. Hit war ther furriner thet Kinnard wanted
kilt."

"Drink all ye craves an' tell me ther whole story," amicably invited
"Little" Jake Kinnard.

"I aimed ter warn ye erbout this Bear Cat's threat ter rip out
stills--albeit we deems hit ter be mostly brash talk," Carmichael
explained. "We didn't invite no trouble with ther Stacys. Kinnard fixed
hit with Mark Tapper ter hev old Lone jailed so thet ther thing could
he done easy like--an' peaceable--but Bear Cat come a-beltin' back an'
hit went awry."

The simmering fury of his blood boiled over in Turner's veins while he
listened. All the duplicity of to-day now stood revealed and positive.
All his suspicions were proven. With two quick shots from his rifle he
could put an end to both these assassins, but he remained rigid. "No,
by God," he mused. "I aims ter do hit on ther gallows-tree--not from
ambush."

After a period Black Tom rose, making ready to leave, and now Turner
Stacy had need to hasten. The point at which he wished to await
Kinnard's second in command was the outer end of a narrow defile which
served as a sort of gateway to the place. Centuries of trickling
water-tongues had licked it out of the rock walls and it was so narrow
that two men could not pass through it abreast.

But Carmichael paused for further converse on the edge of his
departure, and Turner wailed for some minutes, shivering because he had
taken off his coat, before his ears told him of the approach of a
single pair of heavy feet.

The scudding raggedness of the clouds had been swept into wider tatters
now and the moon was steadier though still not brightly clear. Bear Cat
stooped, like a crouching panther, just outside the elbow of the rock
wall, holding his coat as a _matador_ holds the flag in the course of a
charging bull. Then a bulky figure emerged and there followed a sweep
of heavy cloth; an attempted outcry which ended in a stifled gurgle,
and Carmichael went down, borne under the impact of an unexpected
onslaught, with his breath smothered in an enmeshing tangle.

For a moment Bear Cat knelt on the prostrate figure which had been
stunned by its heavy fall, twisting the coat about the face and throat;
then, experimentally, he eased the suffocation--and there was no hint
of attempted outcry.

A few minutes later Black Tom opened his eyes and peered through the
darkness. To his dizzy eyes matters seemed confused. His mouth was