Unconsciously Munford had tightened his grip on McGuire’s arm until the latter whimpered with the pain, and now Munford lifted him bodily to his feet making cautiously for the spot where the horse was standing. The two figures were still discernible, and Burton’s angry voice continued to reach the listeners, though the words were now indistinguishable. Munford’s face in the moonlight was colorless, the muscles around his mouth twitched convulsively. “D’ye hear what they said? D’ye hear what they said? _My God!_ d’ye hear it all?” he was mumbling incoherently in McGuire’s ear, his eyes strained up the road. “Yes, I heard it. Let go of my arm, you’re breakin’ it!” “He’s comin’ back,” said Munford, hoarsely. Burton had disappeared around a turn in the road and the man, after hesitating a moment, began to retrace his steps to his horse, muttering fiercely to himself as he came along. As he reached for the bridle, Munford leaped out and grasped him by the throat, choking back the man’s cry of terror. “You make a noise,” snarled Munford, “and I’ll finish you! Oh, it’s you, eh? Look here, Mac, it’s the cuss that ran the roulette wheel that night at Pete’s. So my price is three hundred, eh? Well, hand it out. _Quick!_” Slowly the fellow put his hand in his pocket and for the second time that night pulled out his roll. Munford’s anger seemed to have vanished. He laughed softly as he took the money. “What are you going to do with me?” whined the gambler. Munford made no answer. In the imperfect light, he was laboriously counting the bills. McGuire watched the operation, at the same time keeping an eye on their prisoner. “Two sixty--eighty--three hundred,” said Munford at last, cramming that amount into his pocket and handing back by far the larger part of the roll to the man. “What am I goin’ to do with you? Nothin’! You get on that horse and ride back to Pete. I want him to know this. Tell him all about it. Tell him Munford told you to tell him. That’s worth more than breakin’ your neck--and that’s all that saves you from gettin’ it broke, savvy? You tell him _I’ve_ got the three hundred, and I’ll give him his chance at me for it one of these days.. And when I do--My God, _you ride_ before I begin with you!” The fellow glanced fearfully from Munford to McGuire and back again to Munford to assure himself that he was free to go. Then he clambered frantically into the saddle and lashing his beast in a frenzy of terror disappeared down the trail. Munford, with swift revulsion of mood, threw himself down on the grass, burying his face in his hands. Not a word from McGuire; he walked awkwardly up and down, whistling under his breath. After a minute Munford looked up. “I got to square this with Burton,” he said brokenly. McGuire nodded. “He’s a better man than you and me and the whole gang put together”--Munford’s tones were fiercely assertive. “He is that,” assented McGuire, with conviction.