of his right leg just above the knees of the other, and at once the
writhing body was quiet. With all of his blood turned to ice, Andy
found, what he had discovered when he faced the crowd in Martindale,
that his nerves did not jump and that his heart, instead of trembling,
merely beat with greater pulses. Fear cleared his brain; it sent a
tremendous nervous power thrilling in his wrists and elbows. All the
while he was watching mercilessly for the cessation of the struggles.
And when the wrenching at his forearms ceased he instantly relaxed
his grip.

For a time there was a harsh sound filling the room, the rough intake of
the man's breath; he was for the time being paralyzed and incapable of
any effort except the effort to fill his lungs. By the glint of the
metal work about the bits Andy made out two bridles hanging on the wall
near the bed. Taking them down, he worked swiftly. As soon as the fellow
on the bed would have his breath he would scream. Yet the time sufficed
Andy; he had his knife out, flicked the blade open, and cut off the long
reins of the bridles. Then he went back to the bed and shoved the cold
muzzle of his revolver into the throat of the other.

There was a tremor through the whole body of the man, and Andy knew that
at that moment the senses of his victim had cleared.

He leaned close to the ear of the man and whispered: "Don't make no loud
talk, partner. Keep cool and steady. I don't aim to hurt you unless you
play the fool."

Instantly the man answered in a similar whisper, though it was broken
with panting: "Get that coat of mine out the closet. There--the door is
open. You'll find my wallet in the inside pocket and about all you can