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But the strain, instead of relaxing, became portentous. Holderness

suddenly showed he was ill at ease; he appeared to be expecting arrivals



from the direction of Seeping Springs. Snap Naab leaned against the side

of the door, his narrow gaze cunningly studying the rustlers before him.



More than any other he had caught a foreshadowing. Like the desert-hawk

he could see afar. Suddenly he pressed back against the door, half



opening it while he faced the men.

"Stop!" commanded Holderness. The change in his voice was as if it had



come from another man. "You don't go in there!"

"I'm going to take the girl and ride to White Sage," replied Naab, in



slow deliberation.

"Bah! You say that only for the excuse to get into the cabin with her.



You tried it last night and I blocked you. Shut the door, Naab, or

something'll happen."



"There's more going to happen than ever you think of, Holderness. Don't

interfere now, I'm going."



"Well, go ahead--but you won't take the girl!"

Snap Naab swung off the step, slamming the door behind him.



"So-ho!" he exclaimed, sneeringly." That's why you've made me foreman,

eh?" His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly upward while his pale



eyes strove to pierce_ the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The

rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic



smile.

"Naab, you don't get the girl."



"Maybe you'll get her?" hissed Snap.

"I always intended to."



Surely never before had passiondriven Snap's hand to such speed. His

Colt gleamed in the camp-fire light. Click I Click! Click! The hammer



fell upon empty chambers.

"H--l!" he shrieked.



Holderness laughed sarcastically.

"That's where you're going!" he cried. "Here's to Naab's trick with a



gun_Bah!" And he shot his foreman through the heart.

Snap plunged upon his face. His hands beat the ground like the shuffling



wings of a wounded partridge. His fingers gripped the dust, spread

convulsively, straightened, and sank limp.



Holderness called through the door of the cabin. "Mescal, I've rid you

of your would-be husband. Cheer-up!" Then, pointing to the fallen man,



he said to the nearest bystanders: "Some of you drag that out for the

coyotes."



The first fellow who bent over Snap happened to be the Nebraska rustler,

and he curiously opened the breech of the six-shooter he picked up." No



shells!" he said. He pulled Snap's second Colt from his belt, and

unbreeched that."No shells! Well, d--n me!" He surveyed the group of grim



men, not one of whom had any reply.

Holderness again laughed harshly, and turning to the cabin, he fastened



the door with a lasso.

It was a long time before Hare recovered from the starting revelation of



the plot which had put Mescal into Holderness's power. Bad as Snap Naab

had been he would have married her, and such a fate was infinitely



preferable to the one that now menaced her. Hare changed his position

and se tied himself to watch and wait out the night. Every hour



Holderness and his men tarried at Silver Cup hastened their approaching

doom. Hare's strange prescience of the fatality that overshadowed these



men had received its first verification in the sudden taking off of Snap

Naab. The deep-scheming Holderness, confident that his strong band meant



sure protection, sat and smoked and smiled beside the camp-fire. He had

not caught even a hint of Snap Naab's suggested warning. Yet somewhere



out on the oasis trail rode a man who, once turned from the saving of

life to the lust to kill, would be as immutable as death itself. Behind



him waited a troop of Navajos, swift as eagles, merciless as wolves,

desert warriors with the sunheated blood of generations in their veins.



As Hare waited and watched with all his inner being cold, he could almost

feel pity for Holderness. His doom was close. Twice, when the rustler



chief had sauntered nearer to the cabin door, as if to enter, Hare had

covered him with the rifle, waiting, waiting for the step upon the



threshold. But Holderness always checked himself in time, and Hare's

finger eased its pressure upon the trigger.



The night closed in black; the clouded sky gave forth no starlight; the

wind rose and moaned through the cedars. One by one the rustlers rolled



in their blankets and all dropped into slumber while the camp-fire slowly

burned down. The night hours wore on to the soft wail of the breeze and



the wild notes of far-off trailing coyotes.

Hare, watching sleeplessly, saw one of the prone figures stir. The man



raised himself very cautiously; he glanced at his companions, and looked

long at Holderness, who lay squarely in the dimming light. Then he






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