of the saddle, and glad, too, that the end of
the chase was at hand. With the death of Blake much of his interest in
it had vanished. There was still Gavin, who if Braden's dying
declaration was to be believed had killed his father. But strangely
enough he felt little or no enmity toward him. He thought he should
feel more. Turkey, behind him, spoke.

"I guess this is the finish of that bunch. If they start anything, we
want to get Gavin--if he killed father."

Angus was silent for a moment. There was the possibility that it would
not be a one-sided affair. He was not troubled for himself, but Turkey
was rash.

"Don't take any chances, kid, if there is trouble."

"Not a chance," Turkey replied cheerfully. "Anybody that beats me to the
trigger will have to go some."

"That wasn't what I meant. Look after yourself. Don't get hurt."

"Are you trying to tell me to play it safe?" Turkey demanded with
virtuous indignation. "Why I ought to report you to Bush. Look after
yourself. You're married. Play it safe! Huh! You bet I will--with a fast
gun."

But the sun was going down. Unless the fugitives suspected something
they would soon be making camp. Now and then Bush stopped to listen.
None now spoke above a whisper. It was like the last hundred yards of a
long, hard stalk of big game. In this case the game was big enough, and
dangerous. Mistakes could not be afforded.

Bush stopped suddenly. Distinct in the stillness came the quick
"lick-lock" of an ax. The deputy nodded.

They came upon the camp. It was on a little flat at the mouth of a wild
draw, a little glade fringed with brush, through which ran a trickle of
a spring creek. At one side the horses, unsaddled, grazed. Gavin, at the
other side, was dragging in a dry pole for firewood. Gerald knelt beside
a freshly kindled fire. Larry was getting food from a sack.

It was Larry who saw them almost at the instant they saw him. He cried a
warning. Gerald rose swiftly. Gavin dropped his pole. Bush stepped
forward and held up his hand.

"I want you boys," he said.

"You can't have us," Gerald replied. "That's cold, Bush."

"Don't be foolish," Bush advised. "I want you, and I'm going to get you.
And that's cold, too."

"Then fly at it!" Gerald cried, and with the words jerked his gun and
fired.

Bush staggered, twisted and went down; but he drew his gun as he did so
and began to shoot from the ground. The lonely mountain camp became an
inferno of shattering, ro