Having heard the tale of his treachery, the prisoner saw them all sit down around the fire. Each moment then seemed an eternity. He knew that his life was in their hands, and that when he had joined the Revolver Riders oaths of membership bound them together which to break would bring death. Once before a man of the band had turned traitor, and his life had been spared by the vote of all, and shortly after he had deserted and become a bandit, leaguing himself with Mexicans and Indians. With this recollection, would they spare Poker Dick? He answered the question himself: “I guess not; ef ther boys did, they’d be fools. I will hev ter pass in my chips.” He turned to Seven-foot Harry and Ben Tabor. “They seems ’arnest ’bout suthin’, pards.” “The captain seems pleading for you, Dick,” answered Tabor. “Yas, he’s powerful good; but I guesses the boys will string me.” “I hopes not, Dick; I fer one decides ter pardon yer,” remarked Seven-foot Harry. “’Tain’t no use, boys. I is ter be called on fer what chips I has got, an’ ther game’s agin’ me, fer I don’t hold a trump keerd: see, ther boys is comin’.” Not a quiver of Poker Dick’s face showed any emotion, as the silent, stern-looking men came near and formed in a circle around him. Then Captain Dash said, in a low but distinct tone: “Dick Martin, I regret, more than I can express, to have to say to you that your act this night, in aiding the escape of Kent King, that accursed gambler guide, has cost you your life.” “I desarves all yer can say agin’ me, pards, so don’t let up on me,” was the quiet rejoinder. “No, I throw no abuse or words of unkindness in the teeth of a man who stands on the brink of his grave. I have urged that your comrades overlook your crime this once, and give you another trial; but there are only three of us to beg this favor against twenty-seven who say you must die.” At a word from their leader the men ranged themselves in line, and passed by the doomed man, grasping his hand in grim, silent farewell, and then continuing on into the darkness beyond the firelight. “Now, cap’n, here’s my last grip, an’ it’s not with ther hand thet tuk ther slugs an’ dimints. Good-by, for I is goin’ over ther dark river, an’ you’ll follow afore long.” Captain Dash grasped the man’s hand, and then called out: “Men, once more I ask it: spare this brave man’s life.” A hoarse, low, stern answer came from back in the shadow: “No!” The leader bowed his head a moment, but quickly recovering himself, called out in stern tones: “Are you ready?” A low assent came from the darkness beyond. “One! two! three! fire!” Six revolvers flashed together, and without a moan Poker Dick fell. CHAPTER IV. A RETROSPECTIVE GLANCE.