But in the same second Drake
gave a shriek of pain as a shot rang out and his own right arm fell
powerless.

In the door stood Hallisey, smoking revolver in hand, smiling grimly in
the moonlight at the neatness of his own aim. What is the use of killing
a man, when you can wing him as trigly as that?

Private Smith, who had entered by the other door, was taking the rifle
out of the woman's grasp--partly because she had prodded him viciously
with the muzzle. He examined the chambers.

"Do you know this thing is loaded?" he asked her in a mild, detached
voice.

She returned his gaze with frank despair in her black eyes.

"Drake, do you surrender?" asked Hallisey.

"Oh, I'll give up. You've got me!" groaned the outlaw. Then he turned on
his wife with bitter anger. "Didn't I tell ye?" he snarled. "Didn't I
tell ye they'd get me if you kept me hangin' around here? These ain't no
damn deputies. _These is the State Police!_"

"An' yet, if I'd known that gun was loaded," said she, "there'd been
some less of 'em to-night!"

They dressed Israel's arm in first-aid fashion. Then they started with
their prisoner down the mountain-trail, at last resuming connection with
their farmer friend. Not without misgivings, the latter consented to
hitch up his "double team" and hurry the party to the nearest town where
a doctor could be found.

As the doctor dressed the bandit's arm, Private Merryfield, whose broken
right hand yet awaited care, observed to the groaning patient:--

"Do you know, you can be thankful to your little children that you have
your life left."

"To hell with you and the children and my life. I'd a hundred times
rather you'd killed me than take what's comin' now."

Then the three Troopers philosophically hunted up a night restaurant and
gave their captive a bite of lunch.

"Now," said Hallisey, as he paid the score, "where's the lock-up?"

The three officers, with Drake in tow, proceeded silently through the
sleeping streets. Not a ripple did their passing occasion. Not even a
dog aroused to take note of them.

Duly they stood at the door of the custodian of the lock-up, ringing the
bell--again and again ringing it. Eventually some one upstairs raised a
window, looked out for an appreciable moment, quickly lowered the window
and locked it. Nothing further occurred. Waiting for a reasonable
interval the officers rang once more. No answer. Silence complete.

Then they pounded on the door till the enti