iss, and the words he bit between his clinched
teeth were unintelligible. In that moment he would have killed me.

Herky-Jerky met his onslaught, and flung him back. Then, with his hand
on the butt of his revolver, he spoke:

"Buell, hyar's where you an' me split. You've bungled your big deal. The
kid stacked the deck on you. But I ain't a-goin' to see you do him harm
fer it."

"Herky's right, boss," put in Bill, "thar's no sense in addin' murder to
this mess. Strikes me you're in bad enough."

"So thet's your game? You're double-crossin' me now--all on a chance at
kidnappin' for ransom money. Well, I'm through with the kid an' all of
you. Take thet from me!"

"You skunk!" exclaimed Herky-Jerky, with the utmost cheerfulness.

"Wal, Buell," said Bill, in cool disdain, "comsiderin' my fondness fer
fresh air an' open country, I can't say I'm sorry to dissolve future
relashuns. I was only in jail onct, an' I couldn't breathe free."

It was then Buell went beside himself with rage. He raised his huge
fists, and shook himself, and plunged about the room, cursing. Suddenly
he picked up an axe, and began chopping at the rotten log above the
hole where Greaser had slipped out. Bud yelled at him, so did Bill;
Herky-Jerky said unpleasant things. But Buell did not hear them. He
hacked and dug away like one possessed. The dull, sodden blows fell
fast, scattering pieces of wood about the floor. The madness that was
in Buell was the madness to get out, to escape the consequences of his
acts. His grunts and pants as he worked showed his desperate energy.
Then he slammed the axe against the wall, and, going down flat, began to
crawl through the opening. Buell was a thick man, and the hole appeared
too small. He stuck in it, but he squeezed and flattened himself,
finally worked through, and disappeared.

A sudden quiet fell upon his departure.

"Hands up!"

Jim Williams's voice! It was strange to see Herky and Bud flash up their
arms without turning. But I wheeled quickly. Bill, too, had his hands
high in the air.

In the sunlight of the doorway stood Jim Williams. Low down, carelessly,
it seemed, he held two long revolvers. He looked the same easy, slow
Texan I remembered. But the smile was not now in his eyes, and his lips
were set in a thin, hard line.

XVI. THE FOREST'S GREATEST FOE

Jim Williams sent out a sharp call. From the canyon-slope came answering
shouts. There were sounds of heavy bodies breaking throug