call
for help.

The dancers scattered in all directions to get ready. A gong, beaten by
the owner of the Bird Cage, rang out stridently into the quiet night to
rally sleeping citizens. Children, wakened by the clamor, began to wail.
Dogs barked. Excited men flung out questions and hurried away without
waiting for answers.

But out of the confusion came swift action. Each man looked to his own
ammunition, weapons, horse. Women hurriedly put up lunches and packed
saddlebags with supplies. In an incredibly short time a company of fifty
riders had gathered in front of the Bird Cage.

With the Ranger at their head, they went out of town at a fast trot. If
there had been anybody there to notice it, he would have seen that the
clock on the wall at the Bird Cage registered the time as twenty-seven
minutes past three.

CHAPTER XXII

THE TEST

When Ridley heard the faint _plop_ of the Ranger's body as it dropped
into the water, his heart died under the fifth rib. He was alone--alone
with a wounded man in his care, and five hundred fiends ravenous for his
blood. For a moment the temptation was strong in him to follow Roberts
into the water. Why should he stay to let these devils torture him?
Dinsmore had betrayed him, to the ruination of his life. He owed the
fellow nothing but ill-will. And the man was a triple-notch murderer. It
would be a good riddance to the country if he should be killed.

But the arguments of the young fellow did not convince him. He had
showed the white feather once on impulse, without a chance to reason out
the thing. But if he deserted this wounded man now he would be a yellow
coyote--and he knew it. There was something in him stronger than fear
that took him back to the helpless outlaw babbling disjointed ravings.

He bathed the man's fevered body with cold water from the river and
changed the bandages on the wound. He listened, in an agony of
apprehension, for the sound of a shot. None came, but this did not bring
certainty that the Ranger had escaped. He had left behind all his arms,
and it was quite possible that they had captured him without first
wounding him.

Arthur reasoned with himself about his terror. Of what use was it? Why
fear, since he had to face the danger anyhow? But when he thought of the
morning and what it would bring forth he was sick with the dread he
could not crush.

The hours lagged endlessly. He had his watch out a thousand times trying
to read its face. O