The Basque said something. What was it? Madeiras was moving his lips. He was whispering to him, but so low that Molly, even as close as she was, did not hear. Johnny caught the words then. It was a command! The next instant the Basque’s gun roared. Johnny’s arms went up convulsively. His body whirled, seemed to lose its balance, and for a second swayed crazily over the edge of the dump. Molly screamed and ran to catch him, but the boy was gone. She could see him careening down the tailings, a trail of blood in his wake. The weight of Johnny’s body set the loose rock in motion. His fall had sent a small avalanche ahead of him, and now he rode upon a moving sea of quartz and feldspar. The direction in which the rock was falling was away from the men below. Molly saw the almost impenetrable cañon toward which the body was dashing. She closed her eyes and turned away. But she could not shut from her ears the roaring of that grinding, splintering mass of rock. Clouds of dust arose and hung over the lower cañon long after the noise had ceased. Madeiras climbed out to the edge of the dump. It was twilight, but he could see the men below. They were running about, shouting, and waving their arms. Gallup and Kent and the sheriff were bunched together. The Basque shook his fist at them. “There he ees, Gallup,” he shouted. “You can come and get heem now!” CHAPTER XX WITHOUT PAY “Git him?” the crowd yelled. “We’ll git you, you bosco—you white-livered whelp—you low-down, ornery—” And they meant it, too! “Git your rope, Stuffy,” some one cried. “We’ll give that hombre a ride.” Gallup and Kent glanced at Hobe. The big foreman’s face was black with hatred. “Come on,” they heard him grumble; “we’re goin’ up there.” “He only did what he was told to do,” the sheriff hurried to explain. “I swore him in. He’s within the law.” “Law?” Hobe’s jaw looked dangerous. “Ain’t no law that’ll let a man murder his pal. To hell with your law! We’re goin’ to git him!” Roddy’s face paled at the crowd’s answer to this statement. Kent, however, was less frightened. “I’m tellin’ you, boys,” the old man cried. “Ain’t no man workin’ for me that touches that Basque. I wanted my girl. He got her for me.” “Well, I’m tellin’ you, Kent,” Hobe ground out, “it’s either me or the Basque. We don’t ride the same range after this.” There wasn’t even the smallest bit of bluff about this. Kent realized it, too. He could ill afford to lose Hobe. “The Basque’ll go, then,” he said grudgingly, “but I’ll not see him hung.” “And what do you think he’d do to the girl if the crowd of you started up there?” Roddy inquired. “If he’s what you think he is, he’d fix her.”