expected no attack from Jed and his friends. As for the enemy, of whom
Arlie had advised him, surely a public dance was the last place to
tempt one who apparently preferred to attack from cover. But his
instinct was certain. He did not need to look round to know he was
trapped.

"I'm unarmed. You'd better come round and shoot me from in front. It
will look better at the inquest," he said quietly.

"Don't move. You're surrounded," a voice answered.

A rope snaked forward and descended over the ranger's head, to be
jerked tight, with a suddenness that sent a pain like a knife thrust
through the wounded shoulder. The instinct for self-preservation was
already at work in him. He fought his left arm free from the rope that
pressed it to his side, and dived toward the figure at the end of the
rope. Even as he plunged, he found time to be surprised that no
revolver shot echoed through the night, and to know that the reason
was because his enemies preferred to do their work in silence.

The man upon whom he leaped gave a startled oath and stumbled backward
over a root.

Fraser, his hand already upon the man's throat, went down too. Upon
him charged men from all directions. In the shadows, they must have
hampered each other, for the ranger, despite his wound-- his shoulder
was screaming with pain-- got to his knees, and slowly from his knees
to his feet, shaking the clinging bodies from him.

Wrenching his other hand from under the rope, he fought them back as a