But I'll break a leg for you just the minute you forget to do what you're told."
"Fight fair, can't you?" growled Hardy.
"Do you call it fair fighting," demanded Steele coolly, "when three of you put up a game to pick us off one at the time? Wait for Bill Rice to get out of the way, then nab Turk and then lay for me! I've given you an even break until now, and you know it. Now you do what you are told and do it lively, or get a rifle ball in the leg. It's up to you."
"That's talkin', Bill," commented Turk in full endorsement. "We've licked 'em once already an' that's enough for one day. Lay still, can't you, Pete?"
"Let him go, Turk," commanded Steele, backing off another pace or two, to have ample room for the quick shifting of aim. "I can cover the two of them now. Come here."
Turk rose and came forward. Pete sat up, grunted, got heavily to his feet, his eyes filled with question, still reminiscent of rage.
"There's some rope over there by their blankets," continued Steele, watchful of the slightest movement made by either of the two Little Giant men.
Turk, his back to his recent foemen, winked largely into Steele's face, while saying gravely:
"Sure. Hang 'em the same's we did pore ol' Johnnie Thorp. I hate to do it, but …"
"Get the rope," cut in Steele tersely. "Know how to tie a man's hands so he can't get them loose?"
"Do I?" grinned Turk. "Watch me."
He separated a thick rope into its twisted strands,
