it."

"Care_ful_, care_ful_, young man; none o' your lip!" said the leader,
half admiringly.

"Give 'em the lot!" It was the first time Westerfelt had spoken.

Washburn made no reply, but went slowly back into the stable.

Westerfelt's dying horse raised his head and groaned. A man near the
animal dismounted and drew his revolver.

"What d' you say?" said he to Westerfelt. "Hadn't I better put 'im out
o' his misery?"

"I'd be much obliged if you would." Westerfelt turned his face away.
There was a moment's pause. The man waited for the horse's head to
become still. Then he fired.

"Thanks," said Westerfelt. He looked round at the crowd, wondering
which of the men could be Toot Wambush. He had an idea that he had not
yet spoken, and was not among those nearest to him. Through the open
door he could see Washburn's lantern moving about in the stable.

"Hurry up in thar," cried a tall figure. "Do you think we're gwine
to--" He began to cough.

"How do you like to chaw cotton, Number Six?" a man near him asked.

"The blamed lint gits down my throat," was the reply. "I'd ruther be
knowed by my voice'n to choke to death on sech truck."

From far and near on all sides came the dismal barking of dogs, but the
villagers, if they suspected what was being enacted, dared not show
their faces. Washburn led a horse through the crowd and gave the
bridle to Westerfelt. He hesitated, as if about to speak, and then
silently withdrew. Westerfelt mounted. The leader gave the order, and
the gang moved back towards the mountain. Two horsemen went before
Westerfelt and two fell behind. As they passed the shop, dimly he saw
the form of a woman lying on the ground just out of the moonlight that
fell in at the door. Harriet had swooned. When they had gone past the
shop, Westerfelt reined in his horse and called over his shoulder to
Washburn, who stood in front of the stable. He would not leave her
lying there if he could help it, and yet he did not want Wambush to
know she had warned him. The gang stopped, and Washburn came to them.

"Any directions you want to give?" he asked of Westerfelt.

"I saw you looking for the account-book," answered Westerfelt, staring
significantly into his eyes. "I was in the blacksmith's shop to-day
and left it on the forge."

Washburn stared blankly at him for an instant, then he said, slowly,
"All right."

"You'd better get it to-night," added Westerfelt.

"All right, sir.