Rounding a sharp turn in the passage they came upon Scotty huddled in a niche against the wall. He was clutching his revolver tightly between his knees while his head was sunk forward on his chest. A tiny stream of blood was trickling down his cheek, showing where he had been hit. Mason dropped quickly down beside him and felt over his heart. To his great relief there was a little heart action. “Quick! the brandy!” he cried in an overjoyed voice. “He’s alive, I think the bullet only stunned him.” The Marshal, producing his flask, bent over and forced a small portion of the liquor down Scotty’s throat. They had the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes and stare about in a dazed way. His gaze finally rested on Mason and he rose to his feet with alacrity. “I’m all right,” he said almost savagely, shaking off the Marshal’s detaining hand. “The bullet only creased my head and knocked me senseless. It takes more than a dirty greaser to kill this canny Scotchman. Have you looked for the half breed? I think I got him in that last exchange of shots, then a third gun cut in from a different direction, and I went to sleep.” They were startled at this point by a cry from one of the cowboys who had pressed on through the secret passage. “I guess I can answer for your third gunman, Scotty,” the Marshal said tersely. “Come, let’s see what the men have found.” Rapidly making their way to where the men were flashing their lights, they came upon the form of a man stretched on the ground. It was the halfbreed’s pal, and he was dying. He was still breathing, but with great difficulty. Trent Burton’s guns had cut short his villainous career, and forty feet from him lay the halfbreed. Bud made a hasty examination of the latter’s wound, and to his surprise he discovered that the bullet had not reached a vital spot. The halfbreed had been hit in the right side just above the hip and was unconscious from loss of blood. Just above him through a small aperture in the roof the stars were faintly shining. A thorough search proved this to be the outlet for the secret passage, and it was evident the halfbreed was about to make his escape when a bullet from Scotty’s gun had laid him low. Under Bud’s order the two men were carried out of the secret passage and taken to the ranch, where they were placed under the doctor’s care. The man of medicine quickly pronounced the one that had fallen under Trent Burton’s guns to be past all earthly aid, and set vigorously to work to revive the halfbreed. An hour later, his wounds properly dressed, the halfbreed was placed under guard.