stood on his
feet.

They were nearing the town. A cavalcade of horsemen, drivers of
buggies, and men on foot came excitedly trooping down the road to meet
the short procession.

Despite his utmost efforts, Van was gone. Weak from the loss of blood
and the shock, he could hold up his frame no longer.

"Bill," he said, as the sheriff turned around, "I guess I'm--all
in--for a little. Cold storage _him_, till I get back on my feet."

He waved a loose gesture towards Bostwick, then sank unconscious on the
floor.

CHAPTER XLV

THE LAST CIGARS

Trimmer, the lumberman, not to be stayed, had broken in upon McCoppet
ruthlessly, with perceptions unerring concerning the troubles in the
air, when Lawrence was arrested. The gambler consented to an interview
with instinctive regard for his safety. That something significant was
laid on Trimmer's mind he felt with a subtle sense of divination.

The lumberman, smoking furiously, came to his point with utmost
directness.

"Opal," he said, "I'm goin' away, and I want ten thousand dollars. I
want it now. You owe me some you ain't paid up, and now I'm raisin'
the ante."

"You're raising bunions," McCoppet assured him softly, throwing away
his unsmoked cigar and putting a fresh one in his mouth. "I'll pay you
what I agreed--when I get the ready cash."

"Think so, do you, Opal?" inquired the lumberman, eying his man in
growing restlessness. "I think different, savvy? I'm onto you and
your game with Lawrence--you payin' him twenty thousand bucks to fake
the reservation. I want ten thousand right away, in the next ten
minutes, or you'd better pack your trunk."

McCoppet, startled by the accusation, watched the savage manner in
which the lumberman ate up the smoke of his weed. He could think of
one way only in which a man of Trimmer's mentality could have come upon
certain private facts.

"So," he said presently, "you crawled in under this place, this floor,
and caught it through the cracks."

"Knot-hole," said Trimmer gesturing, "that one over there. And I tell
you, Opal, I want that money now. Do you hear? I want it now!" He
smashed his heavy fist upon the table, and off flew the ash of his
cigar.

"What will you do if I refuse?" the gambler asked him coldly. "Wait!
Hold on! Don't forget, my friend, that Culver's murder is up to you,
and I'll give you up in a minute."

The lumberman rose. Every moment that passed increased the danger to
them b