The spy gurgled and coughed, wriggled about, but was helpless. Then he recalled that bright thing which had startled him by flashing with a hissing roar past his face, and his tumble out of the tree. He lay back on the ground, groaning. Then his face brightened, for he realized that he had not played in such bad luck, after all. The command of Panther Pete was for him to intercept one of the pursuing parties, let that party capture him, and then offer to lead it to the hidden home of the outlaws; when Panther Pete would have a force ready to wipe the said pursuers out. Deland came back from the clouds, and gave some attention to his prisoner. “Who aire ye, and what was you doin’ there in the tree?” he demanded; a thing which Denton had demanded already. “I’m Bill Hatfield,” confessed the rascal, sure they had never heard his name before. “I’m a peacerble citerzen.” “What was you doin’ in that tree?” “Come!” cried Denton, and he produced a revolver. “I know who you are, all right. You’re not from the town, and that’s proof to me that you’re one of Panther Pete’s men. Admit it, or I put a bullet through you.” Hatfield squirmed; then said, with seeming reluctance: “Well, what you goin’ to do about it? I am one o’ them fellers, but----” “Ah, I knew it! And you were doing what, up in that tree?” “I seen ye comin’, and jest shinned up there ter keep ye frum seein’ me. And say”--he turned to Deland--“what was that thing you shot at me, anyhow?” “That was a rain bomb,” said Deland proudly. “Young man, I didn’t shoot it at ye, but you were permitted to see then a marvelous exhibition; an effort to bring rain from rainless clouds, and a successful one, too; for, see!” He held out his hand. “It’s sprinkling; and it’s been dry as a bone in this country since about the year one. Now, ain’t that so?” Denton still held the revolver ready cocked, and again he pointed it at the rascal’s head. “You know where Panther Pete has his lair. You’ll tell us, or down you go.” The rascal wriggled and squirmed. Yet this was the thing he wanted. “I don’t dare to tell,” he protested. “Why?” “’Cause Panther Pete would kill me.” “And I’ll kill you if you don’t. So there you are. Take your choice.” There was a strange flush of excitement on the face of Denton, and a bright and staring light in his eyes. Hatfield saw that in his present mental condition Denton was not a man to fool with. “I’ll shoot you, sure,” said Denton, “if you don’t tell me promptly where Panther Pete is.” “I--I----” Hatfield stammered, a bit terrified. “Out with it!” “I couldn’t tell you, but I might lead ye to--to the place.” “That’s as good.” Denton turned to Deland. “It’s sprinklin’,” said Deland joyfully, “by all the frogs of Egypt, it’s actually sprinklin’, and in this country where----”