et you go out of my hands into the hands of
judge and jury after all you've done?"

Blenham sprang up, drawing back. The muzzle of Steve's .45 followed
him threateningly.

"Barbee," said Packard, his voice once more under control, "go to the
bunk-house and send Bill Royce here. Don't wake the other boys. Then
you come back here with him. And bring a whip with you."

"A whip?" repeated Barbee.

"Yes; a whip. Any kind you can lay your hands to in a hurry; quirt or
buggy-whip or bull-whip!"

Blenham watched Barbee go. Then, drawn back into a corner of the room,
sullen and vigilant, he stood biting nervously at a big, clenched,
hairy fist.

CHAPTER XII

IN A DARK ROOM

Bill Royce, hastily and but half dressed, came promptly to the house,
stumbling along at Barbee's heels. Blenham, his silence and
watchfulness unbroken, still chewed at his fist. Barbee brought a
heavy blacksnake in his hand.

"Barbee says you want me, Steve?" said Royce from the threshold. "An'
that Blenham's here?"

"Yes, Bill," Steve answered. And to Barbee, "Close the door behind
you. Lock it. Give me the key. Now fasten the shutters across both
windows."

Barbee obeyed silently. Blenham's eyes followed him, seeming
fascinated by the whip in Barbee's hand.

"Listen a minute, Bill," said Steve when Barbee had done. "I want to
tell you something."

And, as briefly as might be, he told Royce of the ten dollar bills
substituted for the real legacy, of the results of his evening in Red
Creek, of Barbee's trapping Blenham, of the recovery of the ten
thousand dollars, of a horse shot dead on the Red Creek road.

"Then," said Royce at the end of it, his mind catching eagerly one
outstanding fact, "I was right, Steve? An' it was Blenham as gave me
both barrels of Johnny Mills's shot-gun? It was Blenham for sure,
wasn't it, Steve?"

"Yes, Bill. It was Blenham."

"An'--an' Blenham's right across there now? It's him I can hear
breathin', Steve?"

"Yes, Bill."

"An'--an' what for did you sen' for me, Steve? What are you goin' to
do to him?"

Packard beckoned to Barbee. The boy came quickly to his side, giving
him the blacksnake. Steve laid it across Bill Royce's hand.

"I'm going to give him a taste of that, Bill," he said. "And I wanted
you here. You can't see it; but before I am through with him, you can
hear it!"

"Goin' to tie him up an' whip him, Steve? That it?"

"Pack of low-bred mongrel pups!" cri