Shanty Moir got to the front of the little dugout in advance of the others. He came with a six-shooter in his hand, and the gun covered Reivers, huddled up on the sand, as steadily as if held in a vise. But Reivers observed that Moir stopped well out of reach. “What tuh ——!” roared Muir, as he noted the absence of the watch-dog. “What devil’s work——” “The dog!” chattered Reivers. “Big dog; big as a house. Came out of the river. Tried to jump on me. Jumped back into the river. Swimming—swimming out there.” Shanty Moir swung the muzzle of his six-shooter till it pointed straight at Reivers’s forehead. He did not step forward, but remained well out of reach. “Steady, old son,” he said quietly, “steady, or this’ll go off.” Under the influence of the threat Reivers pretended to come back to his senses. “Gimme a drink, mister,” he pleaded. “I’m seeing things. I was sure there was a big dog out there. I’d ‘a’ sworn I saw him jump into the river. Now I see there isn’t, but gimme a drink—quick!” “Bring tuh old sow a cup of hooch, Joey,” snapped Moir over his shoulder. “Wilt see about this.” He turned the weapon on the cowering MacGregor. “Speak quick, Scotch jackass, or I pull trigger. What’s been done here; where’s Tige?” “Was it a real dog?” cried Reivers before MacGregor could reply. “I saw something—he went into the river.” “Speak, you!” said Moir to the Scotchman. “Speak quick.” “He’s telling you straight,” replied MacGregor, with a nod toward Reivers. “The dog went into the river. I saw him go down, out of sight.” “Out of sight,” muttered Reivers, swallowing the drink which Joey had brought him. “So it was a real dog, was it? He jumped at me, and then he jumped back, and I guess he broke his chain, because he went into the river and never came out.” Moir stepped over and examined the rock from which Reivers had slipped the dog’s chain. “Tammy,” he said quietly. Tammy came obediently, stopping a good two paces away from Moir. “See that?” said Moir, pointing at the rock. Tammy nodded. “You tied Tige out for tuh night, Tammy?” “Yes, but——” “And you tied so well tuh beast got loose, and into tuh river and is lost.” “Shanty, I swear——” “Swear all you want to, lad,” said Moir and dropped him cold with a light tap on the jaw. “Pick him up.” Moir’s moving revolver had seemed to cover every one present, but now the muzzle hesitated on Joey. “Carry him into tuh shack.” As Joey obeyed Moir stepped back toward the little dugout, but stopped well out of reach of a possible rush. “Old son,” he said slowly, and the gun barrel pointed at Reivers’ right eye, “old son, if you yell again tonight let it be your prayers, because you’ll need ’em. Dost hear? I suspect ’twas thy yelling scared Tige into the river. Wouldst send thee down after him, only I’ve use for you in tuh pits. Crawl in and lie still if wouldst live till daylight, —— you. Wilt pay for the loss of Tige, I warn you that.”