wife. We know this Gledware is a spy, whatever he says, and that
he brought the kid along for protection. He knew if we got back to
No-Man's Land we couldn't be touched, not being under no
jurisdiction, and he wanted to find us with our paint and feathers
off. He's a sneaking dog, and a bullet's too good for him. But
--"with an oath--"blessed if he don't hate to die worse than any man
ever I saw! I don't mind to spare him a few minutes if he's
agreeable. I put it to him--would he rather the kid be put out of
the way first, and him afterwards, or does he want the first call?"

"For God's sake, put it off as long as you will!" quavered the
prisoner. "I swear I'm no spy. I swear--"

"This is unpleasant," the captain of the highwaymen interposed.
"Just you say another word, and I'll put daylight into you with my
own hand. Stand there and keep mum, and I'll give you a little
breathing space."

Kansas, not without a sigh of relief, lowered his weapon and looked
questioningly at his brother. The shadow of the log cabin was upon
him, making more sinister his uncouth attire, and his lean
vindictive face under the huge Mexican hat. Gledware, not daring
to move, kept his eyes fixed on that deep gloom out of which at any
moment might spurt forth the red flash of death. From within the
cabin came loud oaths inspired by cards or drink, as if the inmates
would drown any calls for mercy or sounds of execution that might
be abroad in the night.

"Now, Brick Willock," the leader spoke grimly, "take your turn
first. That kid's got to die, and you are to do the trick, and do