Blenham watched Barbee go. Then, drawn back into a corner of the room, sullen and vigilant, he stood biting nervously at a big, clenched, hairy fist. CHAPTER XII IN A DARK ROOM Bill Royce, hastily and but half dressed, came promptly to the house, stumbling along at Barbee's heels. Blenham, his silence and watchfulness unbroken, still chewed at his fist. Barbee brought a heavy blacksnake in his hand. "Barbee says you want me, Steve?" said Royce from the threshold. "An' that Blenham's here?" "Yes, Bill," Steve answered. And to Barbee, "Close the door behind you. Lock it. Give me the key. Now fasten the shutters across both windows." Barbee obeyed silently. Blenham's eyes followed him, seeming fascinated by the whip in Barbee's hand. "Listen a minute, Bill," said Steve when Barbee had done. "I want to tell you something." And, as briefly as might be, he told Royce of the ten dollar bills substituted for the real legacy, of the results of his evening in Red Creek, of Barbee's trapping Blenham, of the recovery of the ten thousand dollars, of a horse shot dead on the Red Creek road. "Then," said Royce at the end of it, his mind catching eagerly one outstanding fact, "I was right, Steve? An' it was Blenham as gave me both barrels of Johnny Mills's shot-gun? It was Blenham for sure, wasn't it, Steve?" "Yes, Bill. It was Blenham." "An'--an' Blenham's right across there now? It's him I can hear breathin', Steve?" "Yes, Bill." "An'--an' what for did you sen' for me, Steve? What are you goin' to do to him?" Packard beckoned to Barbee. The boy came quickly to his side, giving him the blacksnake. Steve laid it across Bill Royce's hand. "I'm going to give him a taste of that, Bill," he said. "And I wanted you here. You can't see it; but before I am through with him, you can hear it!" "Goin' to tie him up an' whip him, Steve? That it?" "Pack of low-bred mongrel pups!" cried Blenham wrathfully, for the first time breaking his silence. "Sneakin', low-lived curs an' cowards!" "That it, Steve?" persisted Royce. "Goin' to tie him up an' give him a whippin' with a blacksnake?" "I am going to whip him--for your sake, Bill," answered Steve sternly. He threw off his coat, tossing it behind him. "Get the chairs and table out of the way, Barbee! No, I am not going to tie him up; that isn't necessary, Bill. I can handle him with my hands without tying him; I am going to do it. And then I am going to take the whip and lay it across him until his hide is in strips--or until he begs to be let go. Ready, Blenham?" "Mean that?" snarled Blenham, a new look in his eye. "Mean you're goin' to give me an even break?" But Bill Royce, fairly trembling with an eagerness strange to him, had clutched at Steve's arm, had found it, was holding him back, crying out excitedly: