"We're a-going right
on up ahead."

Wid Gardner looked at Doctor Barnes. The latter made his answer by
starting the car once more. Although they did not know it, they now
were approaching their journey's end. They could not as yet see the
swift advance of the fire from tree to tree, because the wind as yet
was no stronger than the gentle air of morning; could not as yet hear
any roar of the flames. But they saw that now, on these mountain
slopes before them, one of the most valuable timber bodies in the state
was passing into destruction.

"God damn their souls!" said Wid Gardner fervently. "Wasn't it enough
what they done to us already?"

"Go on, Doc." It was Sim's voice. Wid Gardner knew perfectly well
what drove Sim Gage on.

But the car soon came to a sudden halt. A couple of hundred yards on
ahead lay an open glade. At the left of the trail stood a great wall
tent.

In an instant, every man was out of the car, the three ranchmen, like
hounds on the scent, silently trotting off, taking cover from tree to
tree. A few moments, and the four of them, rifles at a ready, had
surrounded the tent. As they closed in, they all heard a high, clear
voice--one they would not have suspected Sim Gage to have
owned--calling out: "Throw up your hands, in there!" Actually, Sim
Gage was leader!

There came an exclamation in a hoarse and broken voice. "Who are you?
Don't shoot--I surrender."

"How many are there of you?" inquired Doctor Barnes.

"It's me--Big Aleck--I'm shot--I'm dying-- Help!--Who is it?"

"Come out, Aleck!" called the high and resolute voice of Sim
Gage--"Come on out!"

"I can't come out. I'm shot, I tell you."

Then Sim Gage did what ordinarily might not have been a wise thing to
do. Without pause he swept aside the tent flap with the barrel of his
rifle, and stepped in, quickly covering the prostrate figure that lay
on the bloody blankets before him.

Big Aleck was able to do more than move. He raised one hand, feebly,
imploring mercy.

"Come out, damn you!" said Sim Gage, his hand at the dollar of the
crippled man. He dragged his prisoner out into the light and threw him
full length,--mercilessly--upon the needle-covered sand.

The crippled man began to weep, to beg. It was small mercy he saw as
he looked from face to face.

"That's my man," exclaimed Doctor Barnes. "But it's not any accident
with a tree. That's gun shot!"

"Who done that work down below?" demanded Sim