"Pardon, gentlemen," he uttered, the words dropping with cat-like softness from his red lips, that curled in a smile at once sweet and cruel. "Hearing my name mentioned, I come to plead my own case. Guilford, what is your grievance?" "That you took by force from me a captive. By the laws of the league you had no right to do this. She is mine alone--I demand her return." The words were spoken boldly and without hesitation. Yet the manner in which the flushed face suddenly turned white, told that Guilford by no means underrated his danger. It was like playing with a half-tamed tiger. At first its talons might be sheathed--but who could say how long this would last? "So you consider yourself an abused man, do you?" slowly drawled Yellow Jack. "I deem my rights as a member of the band, abridged. By the laws laid down by yourself, you are wronging me in taking away my property." "And if I return her--this property of yours--you will overlook my mistake?" "Gladly!" cried Guilford, too excited by the pleasing thought thus presented to read aright the sneering tone and the yellowish glitter of the black eyes. "You are very kind. But I fear both my wife and your property would object. Besides, I've taken a notion to her myself. And captain before lieutenant, you know." "Then you refuse to--" "Bah! why so much to-do about a trifle? you grow tiresome, Guilford. We will have to select another officer from the ranks." At this sentence--the last--Yellow Jack gave an evidence of his marvelous quickness. A sudden glitter of steel--a flash--a report, and then a death-groan. Charles Guilford lay upon his face, the blood slowly oozing from a tiny, discolored hole in the center of his forehead. A low cry rose round the group. A simultaneous movement--and full two-score hands fell upon as many weapons. The tall, lithe form drew more erect, with head flung back and eyes that seemed like glowing coals. _Click--click_, went the notchlike springs of his pistols. The sullen roar of two-score voices ceased. The weapons, though still clutched, were not drawn. And the foremost slowly shrunk back. Fear was written upon their faces. And all this because one man seemed awakened. But that man was Yellow Jack. "Gentlemen," began the outlaw chieftain, and his voice was as even and gentle as when first he spoke, "I have a few words of explanation to give you why I shot that carrion. It was because he was a traitor at heart--to me, if not to you. I saved him from the hangman's rope, and brought him here. He served admirably as a man; but raising him to be an officer spoiled him. You elected him; I could not refuse, though I knew that this day must come in time. Well, he's dead. There is no use in producing proof of his treachery, unless some of you demand it. Then I will comply, of course. Is any one dissatisfied? If so, let him advance and give in his plea."