ouse.

They were no sooner out of sight than three men sped from the shrubbery
across the yard, and, seizing Ted by the heels and shoulders, ran back
with him into the place of concealment.

As they threw Ted down on the grass none too gently, the pain brought
him back to life and wrung a groan from him.

When he opened his eyes he saw Stella sitting beside him trying to hold
his head from the ground.

Several men were there, too, lying flat, peering underneath the
shrubbery toward the house.

Every man was armed either with a rifle or a revolver, and occasionally
one or the other of them would fire a shot at the house, which would be
answered by the boys.

"They fire too high," muttered Ted to himself, "because they do not know
that these rascals are lying flat. Every ball goes a foot too high. Wish
I could let them know, but then they would probably hit Stella or me."

Lying beside him was Burk, the deputy marshal, his greenish-gray eyes
looking coldly at the house, and whenever he saw a chance for a shot his
rifle flew to his shoulder.

He became conscious that Ted was looking at him, and turned with a grin
on his face.

"So we got you at last, eh?" he said to Ted, with a sneer. "You thought
you could put this thing through because you are a deputy United States
marshal, did you? Well, you won't be a marshal much longer."

"I think I'll be longer at the job than you will," Ted replied slowly.

"Not after your attempt to loot a dead woman's house while her body
still lies there under guard of a United States officer."

This caused Ted to think of the situation in a different light. True, he
believed that Burk was a crook, and that it was he who was conspiring to
rob the house, but he had authority on his side, while Ted's belief,
after all, was based on surmise, and he would have difficulty in proving
anything criminal against the marshal. At the same time, he did not fear
for his own part in the affair, because behind him was the brother of
the dead woman.

"I say, Burk, I'm tired of this nonsense, lying here and potting away at
the house," said a drawling voice, the owner of which could not be seen,
being hidden behind the shrubbery.

"Can't help it," answered Burk. "We've got to take our time. The house
is full of them, and they can shoot some."

"Rot! So can we. I propose that we rush them. But first I want the
pleasure of putting my revolver against the head of that young bully
there and the gi