Don't
interfere now, I'm going."
"Well, go ahead--but you won't take the girl!"
Snap Naab swung off the step, slamming the door behind him.
"So-ho!" he exclaimed, sneeringly. "That's why you've made me foreman,
eh?" His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly upward while his pale
eyes strove to pierce the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The
rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic
smile.
"Naab, you don't get the girl."
"Maybe you'll get her?" hissed Snap.
"I always intended to."
Surely never before had passion driven Snap's hand to such speed. His
Colt gleamed in the camp-fire light. Click! Click! Click! The hammer
fell upon empty chambers.
"H--l!" he shrieked.
Holderness laughed sarcastically.
"That's where you're going!" he cried. "Here's to Naab's trick with a
gun-- Bah!" And he shot his foreman through the heart.
Snap plunged upon his face. His hands beat the ground like the shuffling
wings of a wounded partridge. His fingers gripped the dust, spread
convulsively, straightened, and sank limp.
Holderness called through the door of the cabin.
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