ho's there?" cried a voice within.

"Message from Rogers. Hell's started! He's sent me with the keys!"

The door jerked open and a tall man, with a rifle slung across one
arm, blocked the entrance.

"What's the message?" he asked.

"This!" said Dan, and drove his fist squarely into the other's face.

He fell without a cry and floundered on the floor, gasping. Dan picked
him up and shoved him through the door, bolting it behind him.
A narrow hall opened before him and ran the length of the small
building. He glanced into the room on one side. It was the kitchen and
eating-room in one. He rushed into the one on the other side. Two men
were there. One was Haines, sitting with his hands manacled. The other
was the second guard, who ran for Dan, whipping his rifle to his
shoulder. As flame spurted from the mouth of the gun, Dan dived at the
man's knees and brought him to the floor with a crash. He rose quickly
and leaned over the fallen man, who lay without moving, his arms
spread wide. He had struck on his forehead when he dropped. He was
stunned for the moment, but not seriously hurt. Dan ran to Haines, who
stood with his hands high above his head. Far away was the shout of
the coming crowd.

"Shoot and be damned!" said Haines sullenly.

For answer Dan jerked down the hands of the lone rider and commenced
to try the keys on the handcuffs. There were four keys. The fourth
turned the lock. Haines shouted as his hands fell free.

"After me!" cried Dan, and raced for the stable.

As they swung into their saddles outside the shed, the lynchers raced
their horses around the jail.

"Straightaway!" called Dan. "Through the cottonwoods and down the
lane. After me. Satan!"

The stallion leaped into a full gallop, heading straight for a tall
group of cottonwoods beyond which was a lane fenced in with barbed
wire. Half a dozen of the pursuers were in a position to cut them off,
and now rushed for the cottonwoods, yelling to their comrades to join
them. A score of lights flashed like giant fireflies as the lynchers
opened fire.

"They've blocked the way!" groaned Haines.

Three men had brought their horses to a sliding stop in front of the
cottonwoods and their revolvers cracked straight in the faces of Dan
and Haines. There was no other way for escape. Dan raised his revolver
and fired twice, aiming low. Two of the horses reared and pitched
to the ground. The third rider had a rifle at his shoulder. He was
holding his