ongue dared not utter. "I should
have allowed you to make a full draw and then killed you," Steele Weir
went on. "That would have been the simplest way to settle your case.
Only I don't like to kill bunglers, even when they deserve it."

He re-sheathed his own gun and strode forward, picking up the one on
the floor--a black, ugly-looking automatic. This he dropped into a
coat pocket.

"Now face about, you cur," he commanded. "I want a good look at a
man--no, I'll not call you a man--at a low-lived imitation of a man
who is such a sneaking, dirty beast that all he can do is to trap and
tie up a helpless girl. I don't know yet just what I shall do with
you, but I know what I ought to do--I ought to choke the miserable
life out of you! You're not fit to live. You soil the earth and
pollute the air. But you're of the same treacherous, underhanded,
scoundrelly breed as your father, same yellow flesh and blood, same
crooked mind and heart, same sort of poisonous snake, and since you
get it all from him I suppose it can't be helped. Nor changed, except
by killing and burying you. One thing is sure, when I'm done you won't
be trying any more deals like this. Bah, you slimy reptile, you belong
in a cess-pool!"

Under Steele Weir's biting speech Sorenson's face went red and pale by
turns. His lips twitched and worked, moving his mustache in little
angry lifts, while he breathed with short spasmodic intakes.

"First, you're after Mexican girls," Weir went on mercilessly. "Then
Mary Johnson, whom I pulled out of your vile fingers. And now it's--"
The engineer's fist arose suddenly above the other's head. "Why, I
ought to drop you dead in your tracks for so much as looking at Janet
Hosmer! Why don't you fight? Why don't you give me a chance, you
cowardly girl-robber? Haven't you a spark of--well, you haven't, I
see. I'll just tie you up and later figure out some way to make you
suffer for this night's work." And with a gesture of disgust Weir
turned away.

It was the moment Sorenson had been waiting for. As the engineer's
back came about, exposed in one instant of carelessness, the man
struck Weir full force on the neck, sending him staggering. Then
Sorenson leaped for the doorway.

Janet screamed. Weir recovered himself and whirled around, whipping
forth his revolver and firing two shots. But the bullets only buried
themselves in the door slammed shut after the escaping prisoner.

"I myself ought to be shot for this," Stee