“That’s why you kept pestering me about my folks and friends?” “Zactly. Trying to catch you in a lie, but you rung true. Now, this is what we must do. I’ll jump this feller and git the drop. You ties his hands behind him when I give the word. We’ll take him through to Massie’s. If he’s all right he won’t feel hard for the way we’ve used him. If he’s a bad one Massie’s men will settle him.” The plan repelled Knight, but he could think of nothing better. He bowed his head in agreement. Kinsty stirred uneasily and whispered: “We got to have light. He could kill both of us in this darkness. Light to see to work by.” He tore the cover off the fire-hole and threw in dry branches and piled on dead limbs until he had a companionable blaze which brightly lighted the small opening where they had camped. In a short time careless steps sounded in the woods and soon Daniels burst through into the light and harshly demanded: “What be you trying to do? Call down on us all the northwest tribes?” “No danger,” replied Kinsty. “Younker was in a bad way along of the darkness.” * * * * * Daniels squatted on his heels, his rifle on the ground beside him. On the opposite side of the fire Kinsty sat cross-legged, his rifle across his knees. Knight held his breath as he discovered the two men were staring at each other fixedly. He was positive that Daniels had overheard, or had guessed their plan. Kinsty slowly leaned back and commenced swinging the long barrel of his gun toward the fire. Then with breath-taking quickness the squatting figure straightened out and was flying through the flames to land on Kinsty before the latter could straighten out his legs. Kinsty’s rifle went off, the bullet passing close to Knight’s head and causing him to cry out wildly. “Hit him!” gasped Kinsty. Knight moved around the fire, but the interlocked figures were rolling and twisting so rapidly he had no opportunity to land a blow without running the risk of hitting the wrong man. He shuddered as he caught the flash of the firelight on two knife blades. Each man had drawn his long butcher-knife, and they grunted loudly as they endeavored to give mortal wounds. They revolved, a blur of arms and legs, out of the zone of light and crashed into the edge of the growth. Then sounded a loud groan. Knight came out of his stupor and sprang to the rifles and snatched up Kinsty’s weapon and stood desperately at bay as a figure emerged from the darkness. With gaping mouth he leaned forward to discover which had survived the terrible duel. The figure entered the light. It was Daniels. “You’ve killed him!” yelled Knight. “Put up your hands! Drop that knife!” The man threw the knife to the ground and picked up a burning faggot. Then he commanded: