Jack shut his lips tightly. “Reber’s been hit hard,” said one of the men. “That feller down at the stable got him.” They led Jack around to where Reber was lying. But Jack paid no attention to Reber; he was staring at old Buck Priest, who was barely able to sit in his saddle. Park Reber had the men lift him to a sitting position. He looked at Jack Silver closely. “I swore I’d get you, Silver,” he said. “I started out last night to clean out the valley. I don’t know how badly I’m hurt, but it’s bad enough. But you’ve stolen your last cow, kidnaped your last woman. If you’ve got any prayers to say you better say ’em.” “I’m not prayin’,” said Jack coldly. “I never stole yore cows and I never kidnaped any woman.” “What else could yuh say?” cried Reber, and then to his men, “Run a rope over the ridge-pole of the stable.” The men hurried to do his bidding. Old Buck Priest had heard Reber’s order, and it seemed to amuse him greatly. “Goin’ to hang the lad, eh?” he laughed. “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! That’s good! Goin’ to die with that on yore dirty soul, eh? It’s like yuh, Reber.” He turned to Jack, who was being held by two men. “Reber’s men bushwhacked me last night, Jack. They killed Ken Mader. Yesterday afternoon they killed O’Steen.” “You lie!” declared Reber weakly. “You’re tryin’ to turn it around. You stole my cattle and my men caught yuh.” “And yore men shot Sam Herd yesterday, Priest,” declared Nelson. “Lies!” panted Buck. “All lies! We didn’t know Herd was dead until we met yuh at the forks of the road, Nelson.” “The rope’s ready, Park,” called one of the men. One of the cowboys threw a noose around Jack’s neck, but he did not quiver. He was probably the coolest man in the crowd. “Have you said yore prayer?” asked Reber. Jack shut his lips tightly. “All right,” said Reber weakly. “I wish you’d wait until June Meline recovers,” said Jack. “She might have somethin’ to say.” “Your time is up, Silver.” “Yuh better not hang him,” said Buck Priest. “You’ll be sorry, Reber. Ain’t there nothin’ that can save him?” “Not a thing, Priest.” “All right, Reber. Go ahead and hang him. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Hang him, you dirty old pup! Hang yore own son, and be ---- to yuh! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” In spite of his weakness, Reber jerked forward, staring at Buck Priest. Jack Silver stumbled forward, his eyes on the curiously twisted features of the old cattleman. Reber tore his gaze away and looked at Jack Silver. “You lie, Priest!” he said. “I don’t lie! He’s your son, Park. His mother died when he was born and he was nursed by a squaw. Ask him who his father was--he don’t know, I tell yuh!” Jack shook his head. “I kept track of him, Park,” said Priest. “I shipped him to school and paid for it. I wanted an ace in the hole. You’ve always wondered if there was a child. Look at him, Reber. He’s yore own flesh and blood--and you’re goin’ to hang him! Let’s get it over with, Reber. I want to see you hang yore own son.”