maybe you would. That was something that Allister did know."
The new leader saw a flash of glances toward Scottie, but the latter continued to eye the captain with a steady and innocent look.
"Scottie," decided Andrew instantly, "is my chief enemy,"
If he could detach one man to his side all would be well. Two against three would be a simple thing, as long as he was one of the two. But four against one—and such a four as these—was hopeless odds. There seemed little chance of getting Joe Clune. There remained only Jeff Rankin as his possibly ally, and already he had stepped on Jeff's toes sorely, by making the tired giant stand guard. He thought of all these things, of course, in a flash. And then in answer to his thoughts Jeff Rankin appeared. His heavy footfall crashed inside the door. He stopped, panting, and, in spite of his news, paused to blink at the flash of jewels.
"It's comin'," said Jeff. "Larry, hop into your shoes. No, don't stop for that. Boys, get your guns and scatter out of the cabin. Duck that light! Hal Dozier is comin' up the valley."
There was not a single exclamation, but the lights went out as if by magic; there were a couple of light, hissing sounds, such as iron makes when it is whipped swiftly across leather.
"How'd you know him by this light?" asked Larry la Roche, as they went out of the door. Outside they found everything brilliant with the white moonshine of the mountains.
"Nobody but Hal Dozier rides twistin' that way in the saddle. I'd tell him in a thousand. It's old wounds that makes him ride like that. We got ten minutes.
