se shot out.

"And quietly," the cattleman added. "We'll take no more chances this
time. It will be arranged carefully beforehand; all four of us will be
in it, of course,--equal responsibility; and there'll be no
witnesses."

Judge Gordon's face wore a pallid, sickish look.

"I hope to God there's some other way out of it," he muttered.

"So do all of us," Burkhardt snarled. "But if there isn't, it means
guns. For you, too, along with the rest of us."

Sorenson leaned forward and gazed from under his heavy brows,
compelling Gordon to meet his fixed look.

"You were keen enough at the time for your share of Joe Weir's stuff,"
he said. "So you'll play the hand out to the end now, the bad cards as
well as the good. You're no better than the rest of us, and it was you
who hatched the scheme for cleaning him up and who put over the
story."

"I know, I know. But--but this would be too much like cold-blooded
murder."

"Murder!" Sorenson grated. "Did you look straight into this fellow
Weir's eyes? Didn't you see something there that resembled murder?
He'd like only the chance to kill us one by one with his own hands: I
saw that much. Just as Burkhardt said, it's him or us. After you told
me about him, I had only to take one look. If he has the goods on
us--well, he'll have to die. Make up your mind to that. We're back to
the time of thirty years ago and fighting for our lives. We were not
only all in on the Weir job, but the Dent killing--all of us. Remember
that. If the facts become known, we'll be run into some other county
and court and hanged. And every enemy we've made in these years past
will put up his head and clamor for our blood. Let that sink into your
mind."

The effect of this low fierce utterance was to hammer the truth home.
The Judge was ashen. Vorse's face appeared like an evil mask.
Burkhardt glowered savagely.

At that instant there sounded the faint report of a shot in the
street. Then as the group sat unmoving, rigid, keyed to the highest
pitch of expectancy, there followed quickly two more shots.
Afterwards, silence.

"A gun-play!" issued from Vorse's lips, softly.

They all sprang up to hasten to the door.

CHAPTER V

A SHOT IN THE DARK

Steele Weir driving his car down the street in the dusk had caught
sight of Felipe Martinez standing near the cattle company's office. He
stopped close by, beckoned. Martinez would do as well as another.

"You're a notary, I suppose?" he qu