first fire from the rebels Chad saw his prisoner, Daws Dillon, leap for
the stacked arms and disappear. A moment later, as he was emptying his
pistol at his charging foes, he felt a bullet clip a lock of hair from
the back of his head and he turned to see Daws on the farthest edge of
the firelight levelling his pistol for another shot before he ran. Like
lightning he wheeled and when his finger pulled the trigger, Daws sank
limply, his grinning, malignant face sickening as he fell.

The tall fellow in blue snapped his pistol at Dan, and as Dan, whose
pistol, too, was empty, sprang forward and closed with him, he heard a
triumphant yell behind him and Rebel Jerry's huge figure flashed past
him. With the same glance he saw among the Yankees another giant--who
looked like another Jerry--saw his face grow ghastly with fear when
Jerry's yell rose, and then grow taut with ferocity as he tugged at his
sheath to meet the murderous knife flashing toward him. The terrible
Dillon twins were come together at last, and Dan shuddered, but he saw
no more, for he was busy with the lithe Yankee in whose arms he was
closed. As they struggled, Dan tried to get his knife and the Yankee
tugged for his second pistol each clasping the other's wrist. Not a
sound did they make nor could either see the other's face, for Dan had
his chin in his opponent's breast and was striving to bend him
backward. He had clutched the Yankee's right hand, as it went back for
his pistol, just as the Yankee had caught his right in front, feeling
for his knife. The advantage would have been all Dan's except that the
Yankee suddenly loosed his wrist and gripped him tight about the body
in an underhold, so that Dan could not whirl him round; but he could
twist that wrist and twist it he did, with both hands and all his
strength. Once the Yankee gave a smothered groan of pain and Dan heard
him grit his teeth to keep it back. The smoke had lifted now, and, when
they fell, it was in the light of the fire. The Yankee had thrown him
with a knee-trick that Harry used to try on him when they were boys,
but something about the Yankee snapped, as they fell, and he groaned
aloud. Clutching him by the throat, Dan threw him oft--he could get at
his knife now.

"Surrender!" he said, hoarsely.

His answer was a convulsive struggle and then the Yankee lay still.

"Surrender!" said Dan again, lifting his knife above the Yankee's
breast, "or, damn you, I'll--"

The Yankee had