red to help. Will you help me now? Bill, I've got
to get there, and warn 'em. The police will try and stop us. If there
are two of us, one may get through--will you----?"

Bill crushed his hat on his head. His eyes, big and blue, were
gleaming with the light of battle.

"Give me a gun, and come on," he cried. "I don't understand it all,
but that don't matter. I'll think it out later. You're up against it,
and that's good enough for me. Somebody's going to have to look bright
if he lays hands on you, if it's Fyles, or McBain, or the devil knows
who. Come on."

Picking up the lamp, Bill took the lead. Here, in action, he had no
doubts or difficulties, Charlie was in trouble; Charlie was
threatened; Charlie, his foolish, but well-loved brother.

Five minutes later two horsemen, regardless of rousing the
inhabitants, regardless of who might see and recognize them, galloped
headlong through the heart of the village.

CHAPTER XXXVI

STILL MONDAY NIGHT

The little river wound its silvery way through the heart of the
valley. The broken summer clouds strove to shut out the brilliant
light of the moon, and signally failed. The swift-moving currents of
air kept them stirring, and breaking. So the tattered breaks through
which peeped the radiant lamp of night, illuminated each fringe of
mist with the sheen of burnished steel.

In spite of the high wind above, the night was still in the heart of
the valley. So still. High up above, the racing wind kept up the
constant movement, but not a breath below disturbed one single
sun-scorched leaf. It was warm. The night air was heavy with the
fragrance of ripening vegetation, and the busy droning sounds of
stirring insect life chorused joyously and seductively with the
murmuring of speeding waters.

The very stillness thrilled. It was the hush of portent, the hush of
watchfulness, the hush of a threatening tension.

In the wide heart of the valley the waters of the river laughed, and
sang, and frollicked on their way, while under cover of the deep
night-shadows lurking figures waited, with nerves set, and weapons of
destruction ready to fulfill their deadly mission. Strife loomed heavy
amid the reigning peace, the ruthless, savage strife which seems ever
to center the purpose of all sentient life.

So the moments passed. Minutes grew. With every passing minute the
threat weighed heavier and heavier, until it seemed, at last, that
only the smallest spark was needed to