Red Crest was standing on the ground with a noose in his hands. Eagerness seemed to be devouring the Indian. “Are you ready, Dan?--no praying--no last words?” “None, but to tell you, boy, that you’re hanging a man who can throw at your feet the biggest bonanza that ever existed.” “Going back to the lie, eh--to the secret you have made up? Ha! I thought you would beg at the last moment.” “Beg! who’s begging?” was the flashing reply. “Dan Darrell never begged for his life. He has told the truth. As he is shortly to appear some place, beyond this planet--just where he can’t say--but somewhere before a great Judge, he swears that there is a secret connected with your life.” Judge Lynch, Jr., bent forward and peered into the man’s face. Honesty was written there in characters which no eye could misjudge. The boy judge trembled; he seemed to feel that he had reached one of the most momentous periods of his life. And he was about to hang the possessor of some important secret. The thought worried him. “Dan, tell me. It will be the last act of your life, and one which you will not be ashamed to offer to the majestic Judge before whom you are about to appear.” If the boy had tried to suppress these words he would have failed. They forced themselves to his lips. Deadly Dan did not move a muscle. He merely shot a rapid glance at the gallows overhead, and then permitted his eye to follow the rope to the noose in Red Crest’s hand. “For the last time, boy, I say, proceed with the execution.” A groan of disappointment fell from the young judge’s lips; but it was quickly followed by a stern command. “Now fix the noose, Red Crest.” Almost before the last word had left his tongue, the Indian’s hand executed an upward move and the noose of the strong lariat dropped over Dan’s head, and was tightened with a jerk. Then the other end of the cord was fastened to the girth of the horse which the prisoner rode, and Red Crest stepped back, his work evidently done. It was a moment fraught with the most intense interest. The young Jeffries looked at his prisoner, and caught his eye. It was fearless, defiant, and bright. For several moments the twain fought the silent eye battle, then the boy withdrew from the contest. “Good-by, Rosebud,” he said. “If we ever meet again, it will be when I come after my rope.” The next instant the word “Avenger!” sharply spoken, fell from the youth’s lips, and the captive’s horse leaped forward, startled by the sudden blow of Red Crest’s tomahawk handle. Suddenly Deadly Dan was jerked from his saddle, and as his horse bounded away he shot up into space like an ascending rocket, actually hung by his own horse. Not far away the animal executioner had stopped. The rope that led from his girth to the beam above was tightly stretched, far from the other end hung the body of the Wolf of the Rosebud. One-half of his figure was in the moonlight, the rest swayed to and fro in the shadow of the beam.