on and asked for an
armistice. Then two hands shot up and Mr. Travennes, sore and disgusted
and desperate, popped his head up an blinked at Mr. Cassidy's gun.

"Yu was fillin' th' hole up," remarked Mr. Travennes in an accusing
tone, hiding the real reason for his evacuation. "In a little while I'd
a been th' top of a pile instead of th' bottom of a hole," he announced,
crawling out and rubbing his head.

Mr. Cassidy grinned and ordered his prisoner to one side while be
secured the weapon which lay in the hole. Having obtained it as quickly
as possible be slid it in his open shirt and clambered out again.

"Yu remind me of a feller I used to know," remarked Mr. Travennes, as he
led the way to the hut, trying not to limp. "Only he throwed dynamite.
That was th' way he cleared off chaparral--blowed it off. He got so used
to heaving away everything he lit that he spoiled three pipes in two
days."

Mr. Cassidy laughed at the fiction and then became grave as he pictured
Mr. Connors sitting on the rock and facing down a line of men, any
one of whom was capable of his destruction if given the interval of a
second.

When they arrived at the hut Mr. Cassidy observed that the prisoners had
moved considerably. There was a cleanly swepttrail four yards long where
they had dragged themselves, and they sat in the end nearer the guns.
Mr. Cassidy smiled and fired close to the Mexican's ear, who lost in one
frightened jump a little of what he had so laboriously gained.

"Yu'll wear out yore pants," said Mr. Cassidy, and then added grimly,
"an' my patience."

Mr. Travennes smiled and thought of the man who so ably seconded Mr.
Cassidy's efforts and who was probably shot by this time. The outfit of
the Bar-20 was so well known throughout the land that he was aware the
name of the other was Red Connors. An unreasoning streak of sarcasm
swept over him and he could not resist the opportunity to get in a stab
at his captor.

"Mebby yore pard has wore out somebody's patience, too," said Mr.
Travennes, suggestively and with venom.

His captor wheeled toward him, his face white with passion, and Mr.
Travennes shrank back and regretted the words.

"I ain't shootin' dogs this here trip," said Mr. Cassidy, trembling with
scorn and anger, "so yu can pull yourself together. I'll give yu another
chance, but yu wants to hope almighty hard that Red is O. K. If he
ain't, I'll blow yu so many ways at once that if yu sprouts yu'll make
a good