“Can I not see something from the rock?” she exclaimed. “It would kill me to remain here while the last dread encounter was taking place in Cut-throat. I will go!” The waif of the gap hurried from the cave, and a few moments later she was gliding through the shadows of the ravine with which she was thoroughly acquainted. The girl sprung back with a startling cry; the thunderous report of firearms had broken the silence and the flash almost blinded her. Again and again the shots sent her warm blood like lava through her heart; she heard oaths, cries, the wild struggling of enemies in deadly combat. They had met! But who were the white men whose voices assailed her ears? Ah! Tom Terror and his Thugs had encountered Maverick Joe and his Vigilantes; not the boy lyncher. The Vigilantes had conquered; their voices told her this, and she wanted to send down to them her approval of their success. But something checked her. Those men hated the boy lyncher. They had even hunted him, and she--she could not admire such men. Myra turned from the rock, but the next instant she found herself face to face with a figure that brought a cry to her lips. “Here you are, my beauty! By Jove! they’ve been settling matters down in the gulch. I thought you were gone when I found the cave empty; but here you are, the girl to make the gold queen of the Eastern coast.” The waif saw the glitter of the man’s eyes. “Are you certain about your own neck, Deadly Dan?” The villain stopped and dropped the hand that he held; then his revolver leaped upward, but the report which followed quickly upon the question, caused it to fall as suddenly. “Draw again and I’ll spoil your face!” said the deadly marksman. “I have just closed one session of court, and now I will open the last one I shall ever hold in Cut-throat. Stand where you are! This time Red Crest and I will see that the noose is properly adjusted. Jennie--Myra--go on into the cave; there’s somebody there who wants to see you.” The girl sprung forward with a parting look at Deadly Dan. That villain bit his lips; the prize for which he had trailed and shot for ten years was gliding from his grasp. He was doomed to the rope once more. “Why did I come back to Cut-throat? War thet what ye asked me, Maverick?” asked Tom Terror, as he looked down into the Vigilante’s face from the saddle to which several of the red survivors of the gulch battle had helped him, bleeding from a fresh wound. “I see no harm in tellin’ the why an’ wherefore now. A big bonanza brought me back. Deadly Dan knows more about it than I do; but I know that a million or more is tremblin’ in the balances on the Atlantic Coast. He sent me back to find an’ to kill; but he thought he’d better come, too. Ha! ha! I’m afeared he’ll never tech the rocks, for it turned out to be a gal.” Captain Harry started at the man’s words. “A girl!” he ejaculated.