Roddy wheeled suddenly, and the spit of a bullet past Mogger’s cheek made him pause a moment to consider things. Lou chuckled, and Steve saw the reckless glee of his face.
“Shall we rush the young devil, Murray?” he shouted.
“No! Hands up, Roddy! You haven’t a hope, you know!”
Roddy’s hands moved over the stock uncertainly. His clothes were torn, and his young face was smudged with sweat and grime, and scored with lines that were new.
“Are you—goin’ to hurt me, Murray?” he said hoarsely.
For an instant Murray’s strong face quivered. Then his will took command.
“Very probably—if you don’t sling that thing down, Roddy.”
His finger crooked on the revolver trigger; but the rifle mouth covered him.
“Lie down behind there!” he shouted. “Now, Roddy!”
“I killed Art Scannell,” said Roddy, paying out his words separately. “They will do something to me for that, won’t they? Murray, will I swing for it?”
“I don’t know. Hands up, when I tell you!”
“Murray, you wouldn’t come arter me if I was to swing? I—I didn’t mean it.”
Ormond was biting his lips. His heart was
