His brother understood this last remark though Mary did not, for Jack had, in a few hasty words, told him all. How, when driven from his home by his only brother, he had fallen into the tempter’s snare, and become one of Jasper Morton’s “Night Hawks.” He told him too of the death-doom sworn by the outlaws, and that while one of the Night Hawks lived, neither would be safe from danger. It was this thought that clouded both their brows. Henry Colton marveled greatly that no attack had been made, though full quarter of an hour had elapsed since the fall of Thompson, but a word from Jack explained this. The Night Hawks, busy plundering the stables and corral, no doubt fancied that the death-cry proceeded from the settler, and that the chosen executioner had done his work well. But they would soon discover the truth, and then— “Ha! it’s coming now!” muttered Jack Colton, in a low, strained tone, as a peculiar whistle came faintly to their ears. “That’s Morton’s signal to Thompson.” “Stand in this corner, Mary, out of range. We must show the devils no mercy now, and remember that the more we lay out to-night, the less we will have to fight in the future,” sternly added the settler. “If the moon only shone brighter!” muttered Jack, his eyes gleaming viciously. “I’d give my left hand for a fair shot at that devil, Morton!” “I know him now. If he’s wise, he’ll keep out of range. Look! yonder they come!” The rifles of the brothers clicked ominously, and then two dark muzzles protruded slightly from the small loop holes. The house had been built with an eye to defense against the Indians though until now the settler had been unmolested. The outlaw whom he had shot, he detected riding off on a valuable stallion, the day before, and at his rifle’s crack, Israel Hackett fell dead. Horse-stealing was regarded as an even more heinous crime than murder, in those days. Jasper Morton had chuckled fiendishly, as he heard the shot and death-cry. He believed that his plans had been successfully carried out. But he became uneasy at the long delay of his acolyte, and gave the signal as stated. No answer coming, he began to suspect the truth, and mustering his men, was now approaching the dark and silent building. “When you are sure of your aim, Jack,” muttered Colton, “tell me.” “I’m ready now.” “Then—fire!” Two whiplike reports rung out upon the clear night air, sounding almost like one. Two of the Night Hawks fell to the ground, writhing in their death-agonies. Wild cries broke from the survivors, and with one accord they broke and fled, seeking the nearest cover, for the moment completely demoralized. The brothers laughed, and quickly reloaded their weapons. But Mary seemed greatly agitated. As Henry noted her pale and frightened face, she murmured “_What if they fire the house!_” “My God! I did not think of that!” gasped Colton. CHAPTER III. THE MIDNIGHT CONFLICT.