for the two men were
frozen where they stood. They had heard the story of Patterson and
Branch and Mansie in one word from the lips of the dying man.

McGurk was back. McGurk was prowling about the last of the gang of
Boone, and the lone wolf had pulled down four of the band one by one on
successive days. Only two remained, and these two looked at one
another with a common thought.

"The lights!" cried Jacqueline, turning from the body of Gandil. "He
can shoot us down through the windows at his leisure."

"But he won't," said her father. "I've lived too long with the name of
McGurk in my ears not to know the man. He'll never kill by stealth,
but openly and man to man. I know him, damn him. He'll wait till he
meets us alone, and then we'll finish as poor Gandil, there, or
Patterson and Branch and Bud Mansie, all of them fallen somewhere in
the mountains with the buzzards left to bury 'em. That's how we'll
finish with McGurk on our trail. And you--Gandil was right--it's you
that's brought him on us. A shipwrecked man--by God, Gandil was right!"

His right hand froze on the butt of his gun and his face convulsed with
impotent rage, for he knew, as both the others knew, that long before
that gun was clear of the holster the bullet from Pierre's gun would be
on its way. But Pierre threw his arms wide, and standing so, his
shadow made a black cross on the wall behind him. He even smiled to
tempt the big man further.

CHAPTER XXV

JACQUELINE WAITS

Jacqueline ran between and caught the hand of her father, crying:

"Are you going to finish the work of McGurk before he has a chance to
start it? He hunted the rest down one by one. Dad, if you put out
Pierre what is left? Can you face that devil alone?"

And the old man groaned: "But it's his luck that's ruined me. It's his
damned luck which has broken up the finest fellowship that ever mocked
at law on the ranges. Oh, Jack, the heart in me's broken. I wish to
God that I lay where Gandil lies. What's the use of fighting any
longer? No man can stand up against McGurk!"

And the cold which had come in the blood of Pierre agreed with him. He
was a slayer of men, but McGurk was a devil incarnate. His father had
died at the hand of this lone rider; it was fitting, it was fate that
he himself should die in the same way. The girl looked from face to
face, and sensed their despondency. It seemed that their fear gave her
the greater courage. Her