own, one of ye. Dismount and come in here. Lave your gun
behind. Give your reins to your pal there," was Feeny's next mandate.

There was a moment of hesitation, a faint sound of whispering as
though the self-styled prospectors were in consultation, and again
Feeny spoke in tone more sharp and imperative,--

"Dismount one, I say. Come in here, or I'll send a bullet for your
cards. Quick now."

Still another delay. The "prospectors" seemed anxious to edge off into
deeper darkness.

"If ye're not off that horse's back in ten seconds, be jabers, I'll
fire, so be lively." And as his excitement rose so did Feeny's Irish.

Four--five seconds ticked by and still there was no approach.
Fiercely, with sharp emphasis, the sergeant brought his carbine to
full cock. "It's aiming I am," said he, as he quickly raised the butt
to his shoulder. There was a sudden scurry and scramble of horses'
hoofs, low-voiced words of warning and a muttered curse or two. Then
leaped a tongue of fire into the night, and from the corral corner
came sharp report, followed by a cry, a gurgle, a groan, then silence.

"My God! they've shot the major," exclaimed Harvey, as he leaped away
in the direction of the shot. At the same moment away sped the two
horsemen in front of the post. No use to fire. They were shrouded in
thick darkness and out of harm's way before one could pull trigger.
Then came two flashes, two quick reports, then half a dozen rapid,
sputtering revolver-shots, then a vengeful howl and a rush out on the
plain. Feeny ran like a deer on the trail of Mr. Harvey, and in less
time than it takes to tell it they came upon the paymaster, sinking
shocked and nerveless to the sandy soil, his hands clasping on his
side.

"Pick him up, you and your man there; carry him into the ranch. I'll
bate back those blackguards yet," muttered Feeny, as he took a quick
snap shot at some dim object flitting across the plain and sent
another into the darkness, aiming vaguely where he could hear the thud
of horses' hoofs. For a moment, running from point to point after each
discharge, he kept up a rapid fusillade, under cover of which the
hapless paymaster was borne swiftly away around the corner of the
ranch and carried into the bar, where, wild with anxiety, but faithful
to his trust, Mr. Dawes still guarded the safe. Then Harvey stepped
through the narrow door-way to the eastern room.

"I have to borrow the lamp a moment, Fan," he whispered. "Now lie
s