"Yer wastin' time on us," said the leader, dryly; "wastin' HIS
time. Hadn't you better talk to him?"

Gideon rose to his feet, pale and cold. "He may have something to
confess. May I speak with him alone?" he said gently.

The leader motioned to the sentry to fall back. Gideon placed
himself before the prisoner so that in the faint light of the camp-
fire the man's figure was partly hidden by his own. "You meant
well with your little bluff, pardner," said the prisoner, not
unkindly, "but they've got the cards to win."

"Kneel down with your back to me," said Gideon, in a low voice.
The prisoner fell on his knees. At the same time he felt Gideon's
hand and the gliding of steel behind his back, and the severed
cords hung loosely on his arms and legs.

"When I lift my voice to God, brother," said Gideon, softly, "drop
on your face and crawl as far as you can in a straight line in my
shadow, then break for the tules. I will stand between you and
their first fire."

"Are you mad?" said the prisoner. "Do you think they won't fire
lest they should hurt you? Man! they'll kill YOU, the first
thing."

"So be it--if your chance is better."

Still on his knees, the man grasped Gideon's two hands in his own
and devoured him with his eyes.