"Block," said Loudon in his gentlest tone, "I wish yuh'd give me some information about Rufe. I'll ask yuh again, an' this time if yuh don't answer I'll ventilate yore left ear, an' I'll use one o' these guns on the floor here. Yuh got to make allowances for ragged work. I won't know the gun like I do my own, an' I may make more of a shot than I mean to. Yuh can't tell." He drew a six-shooter from one of the dropped holsters, and cocked it. "Where's Rufe Cutting an' my hoss Ranger?" continued Loudon. "I dunno! I tell yuh I dunno!" squealed the desperate sheriff. One of the two guns in Loudon's hands spoke twice. Block fell to his knees, his hands gripping his head. "Get up!" shouted Loudon. "Get up! It's only yore ear again. I used my own gun after all!" Then, both what he had undergone at the hands of Block and the loss of his pet suddenly overwhelming him, he leaped at the crouching sheriff and kicked him. "You ---- murderer!" he gritted through his teeth. "Where's my hoss? Where is he? ---- yore soul! What did Rufe do to him? Tell me, or by ---- I'll beat yuh to death here an' now!" And with his wire-bound Mexican quirt Loudon proceeded savagely to lash the sheriff. Loudon was a strong man. He struck with all his might. The double thongs bit through vest and flannel shirt and raised raw welts on the flesh. The sheriff writhed around and flung himself blindly at his torturer. But Loudon kicked the sheriff in the chest and hurled him, a groaning heap, into his corner. Nor did he cease to thrash him with the quirt. Between blows he bawled demands for news of his horse. Loudon felt sure that Ranger was dead, but he wished to clinch the fact. "He's gone! Oh, my Gawd! He's gone south!" screamed Block, unable to withhold utterance another second. Loudon held the quirt poised over his shoulder. "Yuh mean Rufe Cutting?" he inquired. "Both of 'em! Rufe an' the hoss! They're both gone!" "Yuh mean Rufe has took my hoss away?" "Yes! Yes! Don't hit me with that again." Loudon did not know whether to believe the sheriff. It was more than possible that Block was lying to escape further punishment. Loudon stared at him. He made an ugly picture lying there on the floor, his face a network of red welts. His shirt was dabbled and stained with the blood from his wounded ears. "I was goin' to give yuh a chance," said Loudon, slowly. "I was aimin' to give yuh yore gun an' let yuh shoot it out with me. But I can't do that now. Yuh ain't in no shape for shootin'. It'd be like murder to down yuh, an' I ain't goin' to practise murder even on a dog like you. I'm kind o' sorry I feel that way about it. Yuh don't deserve to live a minute." "You keel heem," put in Laguerre. "She try for keel you een de Ben'. Or I keel heem. I don' care. So she die, dat's enough." "Can't be did, Telescope." "I tell you, my frien', you let heem go, she mak plenty trouble."