"Go ahead; what do you mean?"

"Ol' man Packard is down there. This girl's yellin' spoiled my play.
By now he has learned a thing or two. All right; that's jus' the run
of luck, rotten luck!"

Under the words the restraint was gone and his rage flared out briefly.
But it was patent that Blenham's shrewdness was still with him. He
continued almost calmly:

"You an' him can have two words together. Then come back here an' give
me your promises, both of you, to let me go. Then I'll let her go.
Otherwise, I'm as good as dead--an' so's she. I'll jam a gun to her
head the las' thing an' blow her brains out. An', what's more, I'll
get one or two of you besides before you drop me."

Into their parley, interrupting it, his eyes flaming, his face hot with
anger, mounted old man Packard.

"Stephen," he said sternly, his eyes hard on his grandson's face, "tell
me an' tell me the down-right truth, so help you God: Did you rent this
pasture from Andy Sprague, thinkin' he owned it?"

Though he wondered, Steve answered briefly, to have this done with so
that he could again turn to Blenham--

"Yes."

"An' the boys says you have been losin' stock an' blamin' it to me?
An' that you've had stock poisoned an' shot? An' blamed it to me?"

"Yes," said Steve.

"So've I," said the old man heavily. "An' I've always blamed it to
you. An' I never sold to Andy Sprague. Him an' Blenham--Blenham has
played us both ways for suckers, has stole enough cows from one an'
another----"

His voice was swept up into the roar of rage which had given him his
name of the old mountain-lion of the north. He came stepping over poor
Barbee's body, thrusting by Steve, towering over the door of the cave.

"Hold back," commanded Steve queerly. "He's in there. But he's got it
on us. We've got to promise to let him go!"

"Let him go!" shouted the old man, his big bulk seeming actually to
quiver with rage. "After all he's done, let him go? By the Lord,
Stephen Packard, if you're that sort of a man----"

"She is in there with him," said Steve heavily. "Terry is in there.
Don't you see?"

"Terry? That Temple girl? What have we to do----"

"In the first place," cried Steve sharply, "she's a girl and he's a
brute. In the second place, she is the next Mrs. Packard and I won't
have Blenham pawing over her!"

His grandfather stared at him, long and keenly. Then he turned away
and called out commandingly--

"Blenham, come out of that