A lantern glowed dimly on the floor of the corral. Within the radius of its gleam two men were skinning the carcass of a dead beast. Other bulky carcasses lay in the dust; some were reddish white, where the hide had been flenched out on either side; some were still waiting the knife, where the ax or other killing instrument had felled them, not long before. Charlie stole nearer, one thumb hooked over the hammer of his carbine. He could see the dim outline of a wagon backed up by the gate and the faint forms of saddled horses. There should be more than two men. Yet the fewer sharing in that nefarious business, the greater the profit. Too many cooks usually spoiled that kind of broth. In two more steps he could thrust his carbine through the pole and cover them. With their hands in the air, the rest was simple. A really exultant thrill stirred Charlie Shaw. He remembered Elmer Duffy’s angry epithets. To-morrow he would make Elmer sing a different tune. And the next moment he was borne to earth. A sharp rap on the head put a full stop to his pleasant anticipations. * * * * * When Charlie revived to consciousness he found himself in a situation unique and dangerous. He lay flat on his back. His head was free. He could twist it about. The pole height of the corral towered over him. Within the inclosure, not two men, but three slashed hurriedly with skinning knives, and they were working at the last carcass. But, apart from looking on, he was quite helpless. His arms were straight down by his sides. His legs were straight. He was not tied, being more effectually trussed than with a rope. He was wrapped tight in an excellent substitute for a strait-jacket, inasmuch as they had folded him in a raw beef hide, wet and strong with animal smell, and they had laced it tight, from his ankles to his neck, with thongs of the same material. A mummy swathed in its ancient bandages was no more thoroughly bound than he. Charlie watched them deftly quarter the carcasses. The head, feet and offul of each steer were piled in the middle of the hide, and the edges drawn together. Once one man looked through the pole fence at him and grinned. He couldn’t make out their faces in that dim light, but he could see what they did. The quarters of beef were stacked in the deep wagon box. One mounted his horse and dragged the bundles of hide outside. They scratched the dust of the corral back and forth to obliterate bloodstains and telltale signs. Eventually he could hear the jingling of harness, and a four-horse team was hitched to the wagon. Charlie regretted a little that he had been so sanguine; still---- His eyes marked every move. One man mounted the high seat. The wheels rolled away in the dark. And when the cluck and clack grew fainter, the other two led saddle horses out of the gloom. “Take him first trip?” one said.