young feller," snapped the speaker, dropping his
elaborate sarcasm and veering round to his natural ferocity, "you ain't
tongue-tied, I reckon, and I want to know right quick, pronto, what
you're doin' round these diggin's, anyhow. One of our men comin' in from
the stables caught you spyin' through the winder. He gave yer one on the
nob, and dragged yer in here. Now, who are yer, where do yer come from
and what are yer doin' in these parts. Speak quick now, or by----" and he
broke into a torrent of vile oaths and death-dealing threats, while he
fingered nervously the knife that hung in his belt.

Before Bert could reply one of the band entered the room. He glanced at
the prisoner, and a sudden recognition leaped to his eyes.

"I know that feller," he exclaimed excitedly, turning to his chief. "I
couldn't just place him last night when his eyes was shut, but now I'm
plumb sure of him. He's livin' over to the Melton ranch with a couple of
pals of his'n. Seen him there more than once. Ain't that straight?" to
Bert.

"Yes," said Bert boldly, "that's straight."

The man's identification was absolute and the time for silence or evasion
was past. He was trapped and absolutely in their power. That they would
kill him he had little doubt. A life more or less meant little to these
ruthless scoundrels. But if he had to meet death, he would meet it
unafraid.

The name of the ranch owner acted on the chief like an electric shock. He
leaped to his feet with a curse.

"So Melton sent you to spy on us, did he?" he demanded furiously.

"He did not," answered Bert.

There was a conviction in the tone that checked the headlong rush that
the captain had seemed about to make. He sat down again and pondered, his
face working with rage and apprehension. At last he reached a decision,
and Bert read in his eyes that his doom had been pronounced.

"It don't make no difference whether yer tellin' the truth or lyin'," he
snarled. "Ye've learned too much fur me to let yer live. If I turned yer
loose, ye'd have Melton and his bunch down on us in no time. Keep a close
watch on him, Red," he commanded as he rose to his feet. "I've got some
things to look after that'll keep me busy till dinner-time, and after
that we'll put this maverick where he won't do no more spyin'."

"How about breakfast?" asked Bert coolly. "You're not going to starve me
to death, are you?"

The outlaw looked at him with astonishment, not unmixed with a sort of
gru