“And he’ll speak again, or I’ll cut his throat!” And as he said these words, John bent over Morris and threatened him with a keen and shining knife. “Will you speak and tell me where that deed is, or shall I cut your throat? Answer me!” “Oh, cut away, boss! You’re losin’ time.” “And lose the deed to that mine--not much. I’d rather wait. He was talking of his child while still unconscious, and that makes me feel sure he will come to in time and tell us where the deed is, or he’ll never leave this bed alive!” “And where is de gal now?” “Oh, Muriel has got her, and I’ve got them both fastened in the old shack below.” At this instant there was a loud hallo, which caused the two murderers to grow pale and start, but John said: “There’s someone coming! Bar the door, Dopey!” “Settle him now, before he comes to and tells tales!” “You are right, Dopey. I’ll smother him!” And, saying these fateful words, John seized the pillow and pressed it down over the prostrate man’s face, while his ears were strained to catch any sounds. There was a loud and insistent knock on the cabin-door, which had been made to withstand the attacks of mountain-lions or any other possible depredators, and the ringing voice of Shoshone said: “Open! Open, I say! Whoever you are, open the door!” John made a motion to Dopey to keep still, while he took out his pistol and stood on guard, forgetting, in his peril, to press the pillow down over Morris’ face, while Shoshone, without, again commanded that the door be opened or he would break it down. John returned to the attack upon Morris, and again pressed the pillow down tightly, intending to finish his work and then, if so be, fight the intruders later. There was but a short time before the door began to cede to the efforts of Shoshone and Mike, who now forgot his lame ankle, and John saw instantly that his only hope was to pay in audacity for his imprudence, so when Shoshone and Mike entered the hut he had laid one of his pistols on the table, as though that were the only one he had. The pillow had been placed back of the man, and Shoshone came forward, saying sternly: “So he is here, and you are the men who have murdered him!” “You are wrong there, Mister. We were riding along when we heard the sound of trouble and dismounted, and came to see what we could do, and found this poor man wounded, and brought him in. While we were doing this, the scoundrels, whoever they were, rode off on our horses with our entire outfit.” “What is that pistol doing on the table? Is that the kind of medicine you have been giving him?” “That is not my pistol. We don’t need pistols. We are simply honest prospectors, trying to locate a mine somewhere.” “Well, I’m not armed, either,” said Shoshone. “I fell into a hole coming here, and dropped mine; so, if you are honest men, I don’t need them, and you will help me to help my friend.” “Certainly we will, and be glad to do so,” said John.