a man. Kitchell called a halt. He dismounted to examine the
Mexican before he beckoned to Wayne.

"He's dead. We'll need his horse. Put him down behind those rocks over
there, Sergeant."

"You know where we're goin', suh?" Shannon asked.

"Enough to get us across the border. We can take cover there, make some
other arrangements. Benito's _patron_ would not welcome us with empty
pockets. Hurry, Sergeant!"

"I only got two hands, suh." Wayne had freed the body of the Mexican but
was having trouble dragging it into the appointed hiding place.

"You help him, Shannon. We have no time to waste."

"What about him?" Shannon's thumb indicated Drew.

"I don't see how he can get away. Hurry up!"

Johnny dismounted with visible reluctance, but not before he blasted
Drew's hopes by looping the reins of the captive's horse around his own
saddle horn. And in addition Kitchell stood there with drawn gun. They had
disposed of the body and Johnny was back when a sudden command boomed out
of the air.

"Freeze!"

Shannon leaped, putting his horse between him and the open. He had the
reins of Drew's mount in his hand. Kitchell went into a half crouch, and
was startled into snapping a shot in the general direction of the voice.

Drew sat statue still. It was only too easy in this tricky light, bright
though the moon was, to seem one of the men those ahead were hunting. He
had no desire to stop a bullet now. But Johnny had ideas of his own. Under
his direction Drew's horse broke to the left. There were shots and Drew
flattened himself as best he could on the saddle horn, but not before he
saw Kitchell spin around in a crazy dance and fall.

"All right, all right!" Shannon's voice was broken, ragged, almost as if
he were sobbing. "You ain't got me yet--not by a sight, you ain't!" A knife
flashed, cutting the ties which kept Drew's left boot to the stirrup. The
Kentuckian was dragged down and held while the knife sliced again. Two
more shots--then silence. Drew lay face to earth. The fall from the saddle
had brought him down on his injured side, and he was in too great pain to
take much interest in his surroundings.

Then he was dragged, pulled over on his back.

"I got Drew Rennie here." The call was one of desperation. "Yeah, hear
that? Drew Rennie--th' Old Man's son.... I read them letters he had--it's
th' truth! You come t' take me an' he gits a knife clean across his
throat. I want me a hoss, water, an' an open road south