The men with Carlisle came down the trail. Carlisle was astride his own horse. His gun was in his holster. "We've got you, you outlaw!" he cried as he flung himself from the saddle and strode up to Rathburn, Mannix, and Sautee. Rathburn's eyes had narrowed until they were slits through which his cold, hard gaze centered upon Carlisle. His attitude had changed. Even his posture was suddenly different. There was a long breath from the men behind Mannix. It was a tense moment. They could see the menace in Rathburn's manner, and they could see that Carlisle was fighting mad. "Ain't you a little free with your language, Carlisle?" drawled Rathburn. "You know who he is?" Carlisle cried to Mannix. "He's The Coyote--an outlaw an' a killer with a price a mile long on his head----" "But I ain't never sneaked any miners' pay-rolls, Carlisle," Rathburn broke in with a sneering inflection in his voice. "What'd you do with Mike Reynolds? He was with you last night, wasn't he?" Carlisle's jaw snapped shut. He swung on Rathburn with eyes darting red. Then his gaze flashed to the cringing Sautee. "You--you rat----" Rathburn stepped before Sautee. "You haven't any quarrel with him, Carlisle," he said evenly; "your quarrel, if you've got one, is with me. I outguessed you, that's all. You ain't plumb clever, Carlisle. You ought to be in a more genteel business. I just naturally figured out the play an' made Sautee talk, that's all. I ain't the only gent Mannix is wanting--there's _three_ of us here!" Carlisle's face was purple and working in spasms of rage. He realized instantly that Rathburn had spoken the truth. "It was his scheme from the start!" shrilled Sautee from the protection of Rathburn's broad shoulders. Then the mine manager, unable to longer stand the strain, collapsed on the ground, groaning. "Underhanded!" Carlisle shot through his teeth as Mannix stepped back. "An' I heard The Coyote was a go-getter. By guns, I believe you're yellow!" "You've got a chance to try an' finish what you started in the Red Feather the day I got here, Carlisle," said Rathburn in ringing tones. "If you think I'm yellow--draw!" A second's hesitation--two figures in identical postures under the morning sun--a vagrant breeze murmuring in the timber. Then two movements, quick as lightning--too fast for the eye to follow--and the roar of guns. Rathburn stepped back, his weapon smoking at his hip, as Carlisle swayed for a moment and then crumpled upon the ground. Rathburn quickly drew the piece of paper from his left pocket and the roll of bills from his right. He put the note with the bills and tossed the roll to Mannix. Then he stepped back to the doorway. "Join your men, Mannix," he said quietly.