"I haven't come here to argue the matter with you; I've come after my man, and am going to have him." "And I repeat what I said: he left more than two hours ago, and you have no business to come here." "Do you mean to tell me he isn't in the house?" demanded Cadmus, with rising temper. "I refuse to answer, but I do say that neither you nor any of your gang shall enter my home, where are my mother and sister, their hearts stricken by your murderous doings of yesterday, except over my dead body." "We don't like to disturb the ladies," said Cadmus, "but we mean business; we have promised the boys to bring back that fellow; but I'll make a proposition." "What is it?" "If you will say that Mont Sterry is not in there, we'll go away without disturbing any one; we'll take your word." "I recognize no right of yours to question me," was the scornful reply of Fred Whitney. "Boys," said Cadmus, turning again to his companions, "that's only another way of owning up that the coward is hiding here, afraid to meet us; he's our game." CHAPTER XVII. A DELICATE SITUATION. Few men possessed more courage than Fred Whitney, and he was thoroughly aroused. Sitting in front of his own home during the evening, it naturally happened that he was without any weapon at immediate command. His Winchester and revolvers, his inseparable companions, during those stirring times, whenever away from home, were inside. It need not be said that every one of the rustlers had his "guns" in his possession, so he was a single, defenceless man against four armed ones. Nevertheless, he strode forward in front of the open door, determined to make good his threat. "You talk of cowards," he said; "you are four, and each has his pistols and rifle; I have none and one arm is wounded, but I defy you!" "Come, come," said the leader, "this will do you no good; we're bound to have that man, and if he won't come out we must go after him. If you stand in the way we'll pitch you aside. We don't want to hurt you." "Advance at your peril--" "Fred, move a little to the left--that will do. I've got a bead on him now." It was the voice of Mont Sterry, a few feet away, in the darkness of the room. The muzzle of his rifle, however, projected just enough to reflect the moonlight, and it was leveled at the breast of Larch Cadmus. "One step," added Sterry, "and you're a dead man." "Larch Cadmus," said Fred, thrilled by the occurrence, "for we recognize you despite those whiskers, I never knew Mont Sterry to break his word!" Language cannot do justice to the situation. At the very moment the miscreant was about to advance to hurl Whitney from his path he was confronted by the muzzle of a loaded rifle, held by a man who was in deadly earnest, and who realized he was at bay. The startled ruffian recoiled a step and stared into the darkened room, as if he failed to grasp the situation.