"I'm not so sure of that. I know what you've got against me, but I
should like to know what kick your friends have coming," the ranger
retorted.

"You may have mine, right off the reel, Mr. Fraser, or whatever you
call yourself. You came into this valley with a lie on your lips. We
played you for a friend, and you played us for suckers. All the time
you was in a deal with the sheriff for you know what. I hate a spy
like I do a rattlesnake."

It was the man Yorky that spoke. Steve's eyes met his.

"So I'm a spy, am I?"

"You know best."

"Anyhow, you're going to shoot me first, and find out afterward?"

"Wrong guess. We're going to hang you." Struve, unable to keep back
longer his bitter spleen, hissed this at him.

"Yes, that's about your size, Struve. You can crow loud now, when the
odds are six to one, with the one unarmed and tied at that. But what I
want to know is-- are you playing fair with your friends? Have you
told them that every man in to-night's business will hang, sure as
fate? Have you told them of those cowardly murders you did in Arizona
and Texas? Have you told them that your life is forfeit, anyway? Do
they know you're trying to drag them into your troubles? No? You
didn't tell them that. I'm surprised at you, Struve."