rge jabbed the gun into his
stomach.

"Put 'em up!" he ordered, but some devil of resistance seized Wiley as
his hands went up. It was close, too close, and George had the drop on
him, but one hand struck out and the other clutched the gun while he
twisted his lithe body aside. At the roar of the shot he went for his
own gun, leaping back and stooping low. Another bullet clipped his shirt
and then his own gun spat back, shooting blindly through the smoke. He
emptied it, dodging swiftly and crouching close to the ground, and then
he sprang behind the car. There was a silence, but as he listened he
heard a gurgling noise, like the water flowing out of a canteen, and a
sudden, sodden thump. He looked out, and George was down. His blood was
gushing fast but the narrow, snaky eyes sought him out before they were
filmed by death. It was over, like a rush of wind.

Wiley flicked out his cylinder and filled it with fresh cartridges, then
looked around for the rest. He was calm now, and calculating and
infinitely brave; but no one stepped forth to face his gun. A boy, down
in town, started running towards the mine, only to turn back at some
imperative command. The whole valley was lifeless, yet the people were
there, and soon they would venture forth. And then they would come up,
and look at the body, and ask him to give up his gun; and if he did they
would take him to Vegas and shut him up in jail, where the populace
could come and stare at him. Blount and Jepson would come, and the Board
of Directors; and, in order to put him away, they would tell how he had
threatened George. They would make it appear that he had come to jump
the mine, and that George was defending the property; and then, with the
jury nicely packed, they would send him to the penitentiary, where he
wouldn't interfere with their plans.

In a moment of clairvoyance he saw Virginia before him, looking in
through the prison bars and smiling, and suddenly he put up his gun. She
had started this job and made him a murderer but he would rob her of
that last chance to smile. There was a road that he knew that had been
traveled before by men who were hard-pressed and desperate. It turned
west across the desert and mounted by Daylight Springs to dip down the
long slope to the Sink; and across the Valley of Death, if he could once
pass over it, there was no one he need fear to meet. No one, that is,
except stray men like himself, who had fled from the officers of the