boys; hustle down there if yuh want to see Glasgow again."

Trembling, all their dare-devil courage sapped from them by the menace
of Thurston's words, they stumbled down the steep stairs, and the
darkness swallowed them. Lauman beckoned to his deputy.

"You go with 'em, Waller," he ordered. "If anybody but me offers to lift
this trap, shoot. Don't yuh take any chances. Blow out that candle soon
as you're located."

It was then that fifty riders clattered into the yard and up to the
front door, grouping in a way that left no exit unseen. Thurston,
standing in the doorway, knew them almost to a man. Lazy Eight boys,
they were; men who night after night had spread their blankets under the
tent-roof with him and with Bob MacGregor; Bob, who lay silently out
on the hill back of the home ranch-house, waiting for the last, great
round-up. They glanced at him in mute greeting and dismounted without a
word. With them mingled the Circle Bar boys, as silent and grim as their
fellows. Lauman came up and peered into the dusk; Thurston observed that
he carried his Winchester unobtrusively in one hand.

"Why, hello, boys," he greeted cheerfully. But for the rifle you never
would have guessed he knew their errand.

"Hello, Lauman," answered Park, matching him for cheerfulness. Then:

"We rode over to hang them Wagners." Lauman grinned. "I hate to
disappoint yuh, Park, but I've kinda set my heart on doing that little
job myself. I'm the one that caught 'em, and if you'd followed my trail
the last month you'd say I earned the privilege."

"Maybe so," Park admitted pleasantly, "but we've got a little personal
matter to settle up with those jaspers. Bob MacGregor was one of us, yuh
remember."

"I'll hang 'em just as dead as you can," Lauman argued.

"But yuh won't do it so quick," Park lashed back. "They're spoiling the
air every breath they draw. We want 'em, and I guess that pretty near
settles it."

"Not by a damn sight it don't! I've never had a man took away from me
yet, boys, and I've been your sheriff a good many years. You hike right
back to camp; yuh can't have 'em."

Thurston could scarcely realize the deadliness of their purpose. He knew
them for kind-hearted, laughter-loving young fellows, who would give
their last dollar to a friend. He could not believe that they would
resort to violence now. Besides, this was not his idea of a mob; he
had fancied they would howl threats and wave bludgeons, as they did in
storie