With repugnance, he set himself to the task of releasing the trap that held the dead man's head. He had the delicacy not to call on his distressed companion for aid. The task was very difficult, and very gruesome, for it required harsh handling of the head, which was in the way. Finally, however, the thing was accomplished. The savage jaws were freed from the flesh they had mangled, and were locked open. Then, Brant turned the body over, and gazed curiously, with strong repulsion, into the ugly, distorted dead face. "Providence picked out somebody who could be spared," he mused grimly. There came another cry from Stone. In it were wonder, incredulity, relief. Brant regarded the marshal in amazement. The man was transformed. The motionless figure of desolation was become one of wild, quivering excitement. The face was suffused with blood, the eyes shining fiercely. "What the devil!" Brant demanded, aghast. Stone looked toward his questioner gravely, and nodded with great emphasis. His voice was low, tense with emotion. "It is the devil!" he answered solemnly. He paused, clearing his throat, and stared again at the dead man. Then, his eyes went back to Brant, as he added: "It's Hodges." There was a little silence. Brant could not understand, could not believe this startling assertion flung in his face. "But Hodges was thrown over the precipice," he said, at last. The marshal shook his head. There was defiance now in his aspect--defiance, and a mighty joy. "It doesn't make any difference about that," he announced. "This is Hodges!" Then, his exultation burst in words: "Hodges caught in his own traps! His neck broken, as it should have been broken by the rope for the murders he's done! It was my carelessness did it, yes. But I don't care now, so long as it's Hodges who's got caught. Hodges set those traps, and--there he is!... I read about something like that once in a story. They called it 'poetic justice.'" "He don't look like a poem," Brant remarked. He turned from the gory corpse with a shudder of disgust. "Thank God, it was Hodges!" the marshal said, reverently. "Anybody else would have haunted me for life. But Hodges! Why, I'm glad!" * * * * *