alongside his companion. Within five minutes he had added a third man
to the collection.

With a sardonic grin he drove them before him to Beresford.

"I'm a prisoner an' not in this show, you was careful to explain to
me, Mr. Constable, but I busted the rules an' regulations to collect a
few specimens of my own," he drawled by way of explanation.

Beresford's eyes gleamed. The debonair impudence of the procedure
appealed mightily to him. He did not know how this young fellow had
done it, but he must have acted with cool nerve and superb daring.

"Where were they? And how did you get 'em without a six-shooter?"

"They was driftin' up the pass to say 'How-d'you-do?' from the back
stairway. I borrowed a gun from one o' them. I asked 'em to come along
with me and they reckoned they would."

The booming of a rifle echoed in the rocks to the left. From out of
them Jessie McRae came flying, something akin to terror in her face.

"I've shot that West. He tried to run in on me and--and--I shot him."
Her voice broke into an hysterical sob.

"Thought I told you to keep out of this," the constable said. "I seem
to have a lot of valuable volunteer help. What with you and friend
Morse here--" He broke off, touched at her distress. "Never mind about
that, Miss McRae. He had it coming to him. I'll go out and size up the
damage to him, if his friends have had enough--and chances are they