by
the pressure of his masterful will.

In the late afternoon, while Gordon was still fifteen miles from Kusiak,
his horse fell lame. He led it limping to the cabin of some miners.

There were three of them, and they had been drinking heavily from a jug
of whiskey left earlier in the day by the stage-driver. Gordon was in
two minds whether to accept their surly permission to stay for the
night, but the lameness of his horse decided him.

Not caring to invite their hostility, he gave his name as Gordon instead
of Elliot. He was to learn within the hour that this was mistake number
two.

From a pocket of the coat he had thrown on a bed protruded the newspaper
Gordon had brought from Kusiak. One of the men, a big red-headed fellow,
pulled it out and began sulkily to read.

While he read the other two bickered and drank and snarled at each
other. All three of the men were in that stage of drunkenness when a
quarrel is likely to flare up at a moment's notice.

"Listen here," demanded the man with the newspaper. "Tell you what,
boys, I'm going to wring the neck of that pussyfooting spy Elliot if
I ever get a chanct."

He read aloud the editorial in the "Sun." After he had finished, the
others joined him in a chorus of curses.

"I always did hate a spy--and this one's a murderer too. Why don't some
one fill his hide with lead?" one of the men wanted to know.

Redhead was sitting at the table. He thumped a heavy fist down so hard
that the tin cups jumped. "Gimme a crack at him and I'll show you, by
God."

A shadow fell across the room. In the doorway stood a newcomer. Gordon
had a sensation as if a lump of ice had been drawn down his spine. For
the man who had just come in was Big Bill Macy, and he was looking at
the field agent with eyes in which amazement, anger, and triumph blazed.

"I'm glad to death to meet up with you again, Mr. Elliot," he jeered.
"Seems like old times on Wild-Goose."

"Whad you say his name is?" cut in the man with the newspaper.

"Hasn't he introduced himself, boys?" Macy answered with a cruel
grin. "Now, ain't that modest of him? You lads are entertaining that
well-known deteckative and spy Gordon Elliot, that renowned king of
hold-ups--"

The red-headed man interrupted with a howl of rage. "If you're telling
it straight, Bill Macy, I'll learn him to spy on me."

Elliot was sitting on one of the beds. He had not moved an inch since
Macy had appeared, but the brain behind his live e