aid Fletcher Hill.

Bill Warden's hand suddenly came forth and gripped him by the shoulder.
"Damn you!" he said. "Do you think I want to save your life?"

The words were low, spoken with a concentrated passion more terrible than
open violence. He looked closely into Hill's eyes, and his own were
flaming like the eyes of a baited animal.

Hill looked straight back at him without the stirring of an eyelid. "Take
your hand off me!" he said.

It was the word of the superior officer. Warden's hand fell as it were
mechanically. There followed a tense silence.

Warden made a sharp movement. "I did it to save your life," he said.
"You'd have died like a dog within ten seconds if I hadn't turned you
back."

A curious expression crossed Hill's strong countenance. It was almost a
smile of understanding. "I am--indebted to you--boss," he said, and with
the words very calmly he took his revolver by the muzzle and held it out.
"I surrender to you--without conditions."

Bill Warden gave a sharp start of surprise. For an instant he hesitated,
then in silence he took the weapon and dropped it into his pocket. A
moment longer he looked Fletcher Hill straight in the eyes, then swung
upon his heel.

"We'll get out of this infernal hole straight away," he said, and,
stooping, gripped his fingers upon a ridge of stone that ran close to the
floor. The stone swung inward under his grasp, leaving a dark aperture
gaping at his feet. Bill glanced backwards at his prisoner.

The smile still hovered in the latter's eye. "After you, Mr. Buckskin
Bill!" he said, ceremoniously.

And in silence Bill led the way.

CHAPTER XII

THE BOSS OF BARREN VALLEY

"Oh, my dear!" gasped Adela. "I've had the most terrifying adventure.
I thought I should never see you again. The men are all on strike, and
they've sworn to kill Fletcher Hill, only no one knows where he is. What
became of him? Has he got away?"

"I don't know," Dot said.

She sank into the nearest chair in the ill-lighted manager's office, and
leaned her white face in her hand.

"Perhaps he has been murdered already," said Adela. "Mr. Harley is
very anxious about him. He can't hold them. And--Dot--just think of
it!--Warden--the man we saw yesterday, the sub-manager--is at their head.
I saw him myself. He had a revolver in his hand. You were with Fletcher
Hill. You must know what became of him!"

"No, I don't know," said Dot. "We--parted--a long time ago."

"How odd you a