ce.

Shorty's eyes were glowing with rage and suspicion.

"What's happened?" he demanded of one of the men.

"Rukus," shortly replied one. "Hamlin, here, tried to draw on Slade, an'
Slade----"

"Slade!"

Shorty almost screamed the words. He straightened, his face grew
convulsed. Pausing on the verge of violent action, he heard Hamlin's
voice:

"Shorty!"

Shorty leaned over. Straining, his muscles working, his eyes blazing,
Shorty heard low words issuing from Hamlin's lips:

"Slade done it, Shorty. An' he's got Ruth--took her upstairs.
Shorty--save her--for God's sake!"

Shorty straightened. "Take this man to the doctor--he's hit bad!" The
words were flung at the four men; and Shorty was on the move before he
finished.

Blackburn and the others were close behind him when he burst into the
front door of the saloon.

The saloon occupied the entire lower floor. A bar ran the length of the
room from front to rear. In the center of the room was a roulette wheel;
near it was a faro table; and scattered in various places were other
tables. Some oil-lamps in clusters provided light for the card and
gambling tables; and behind the bar were several bracket lamps.

There were perhaps a score of men in the room when Shorty and the Circle
L men burst in. Shorty had come to a halt in the glare of one of the
big clusters of lights, and his friends had halted near him.

The giant made a picture that brought an awed hush over the place. He
stood in the glaring light, a gun in each hand, the muscles of his face
and neck standing out like whipcords; his legs a-sprawl, his eyes
blazing with awful rage as they roved around the room, scanning the
faces of every man there. The other Circle L men had drawn their
weapons, too. But Shorty dominated. It was upon him that all eyes
turned; it was upon his crimson, rage-lined face that every man looked.
He was a figure of gigantic proportions--a mighty man in the grip of the
blood-lust.

"You guys stand. Every damned one of you! Don't move a finger or bat an
eyelash! I've come a-killin'!" he said in a low, tense voice, the words
coming with a snap, jerkily, like the separate and distinct lashes of a
whip.

Not a man in the room moved, nor did their fascinated eyes waver for an
instant from Shorty's face.

"Where's Slade?"

He shot the words at them. He saw their eyes waver for an instant from
his and they looked toward the stairs in the rear--the stairs that Ruth
Hamlin had s