"My name's Johnson."

"Not in Arizona, it isn't. Wolf Struve it is there, wanted for murder
and other sundries." He turned swiftly from him to his confederates.
"You fools, you're putting your heads into a noose. He's in already,
and wants you in, too. Test him. Throw the end of that rope over the
limb, and stand back, while he pulls me up alone. He daren't-- not for
his life, he daren't. He knows that whoever pulls on that rope hangs
himself as surely as he hangs me."

The men looked at each other, and at Struve. Were they being led into
trouble to pay this man's scores off for him? Suspicion stirred
uneasily in them.

"That's right, too. Let Johnson pull him up," Slim Leroy said
sullenly.

"Sure. You've got more at stake than we have. It's up to you,
Johnson," Yorky agreed.

"That's right," a third chipped in.

"We'll all pull together, boys," Struve insinuated. "It's only a bluff
of his. Don't let him scare you off."

"He ain't scaring me off any," declared Yorky. "He's a spy, and he's
getting what is coming to him. But you're a stranger too, Johnson. I
don't trust you any-- not any farther than I can see you, my friend.
I'll stand for being an aider and abettor, but I reckon if there's any
hanging to be done you'll have to be the sheriff," replied Yorky