e head in the direction
of the hut. "It's far enough from the village for folks not to know
when it's here or not. Then the feller runnin' this layout keeps other
things here. Y'see, when a job's on he don't fancy folks gettin' to
know him. So he keeps an outfit o' stuff back in the hut there as 'ud
hide up a Dago ice-cream seller. Maybe he has other uses for that
shack. I ain't wise. But that hidin' hole I located dead easy. Guess
he figgers it's a dead secret--but it ain't."

Then Fyles's voice, sharply imperious, carried to the listening man.

"Who is he?" he demanded, turning suddenly upon his companion as they
reached the horses.

The grin left the half-breed's face, and Charlie held his breath.

The half-breed halted. An ironical light possessed his discolored
eyes.

"Why, the feller you're getting to-night--in the boat."

Fyles eyed his man sternly.

"That's the second time you've answered me in that way. I'm not to be
played with. Who is this man?"

A curious truculence grew in the half-breed's face.

"I've told you all I'm going to tell you. Guess you'll be askin' me to
lay hands on him for you, next. I've earned my freedom, and when you
get these folks I'll be square with the game. You can't bluff me on
this game. No, sir. I got the law clear. You can't touch me for a
thing. It's up to you to get your man. I showed you the way."

Charlie breathed again, though his fury at the miserable traitor was
no less.

Fyles swung himself into the saddle. He bent down, and his voice was
harshly commanding.

"Maybe I can't touch you--now," he cried. "But see you play the game
to-night. You get your free run, only if I get the man I'm after. The
rest of the gang don't count a lot, nor the liquor. It's the boss of
the gang I need. If you've lied to me you'll get short shrift."

"You'll get him all right."

The half-breed grinned insolently up into the officer's face. Then
Fyles rode away, and, from the moment his horse began to move until it
vanished down the cattle track, the muzzle of Charlie Bryant's gun was
covering him. His impulse was homicidal. To bring this man down might
be the best means of nullifying the effect of Pete's treachery. Then,
in time, he remembered that there were others to replace him, and, in
all probability, they knew already the story Pete had told their
chief. There was one thing certain, however, that liquor must not be
run to-night.

Urgent as was the moment Charlie had not y