esh. His breath
came in wheezy puffs.

"Next time you get your own--"

The voice faltered, died away. The protuberant eyes, still cold and
fishy, passed fearfully from one to another of those in the room. It was
plain that the bottom had dropped out of his heart. One moment he had
straddled the world a Colossus, the next he was collapsing like a
punctured balloon.

"Goddlemighty!" he gasped. "Don't shoot! I--I give up."

He was carrying a bucket of water. It dropped from his nerveless fingers
and spilt over the floor.

Like a bullet out of a gun Crawford shot a question at him. "Where have
you hidden the money you got from the stage?"

The loose mouth of the convict opened. "Why, we--I--we--"

"Keep yore trap shut, you durn fool," ordered Shorty.

Crawford jabbed his rifle into the ribs of the rustler. "Yours, too,
Shorty."

But the damage had been done. Miller's flabby will had been braced by
a stronger one. He had been given time to recover from his dismay. He
moistened his lips with his tongue and framed his lie.

"I was gonna say you must be mistaken, Mr. Crawford," he whined.

Shorty laughed hardily, spat tobacco juice at a knot in the floor, and
spoke again. "Third degree stuff, eh? It won't buy you a thing, Crawford.
Miller wasn't in that hold-up any more'n I--"

"Let Miller do his own talkin', Shorty. He don't need any lead from you."

Shorty looked hard at the cattleman with unflinching eyes. "Don't get on
the peck, Em. You got no business coverin' me with that gun. I know you
got reasons a-plenty for tryin' to bluff us into sayin' we held up the
stage. But we don't bluff worth a cent. See?"

Crawford saw. He had failed to surprise a confession out of Miller by the
narrowest of margins. If he had had time to get Shorty out of the room
before the convict's appearance, the fellow would have come through. As
it was, he had missed his opportunity.

A head followed by a round barrel body came in cautiously from the
lean-to at the rear.

"Everything all right, Mr. Crawford? Thought I'd drap on down to see if
you didn't need any help."

"None, thanks, Mr. Thomas," the cattleman answered dryly.

"Well, you never can tell." The prospector nodded genially to Shorty,
then spoke again to the man with the rifle. "Found any clue to the
hold-up yet?"

"We've found the men who did it," replied Crawford.

"Knew 'em all the time, I reckon," scoffed Shorty with a harsh laugh.

Dave drew his chief aside,