"You villain! You damned white-livered coward!" The look of the young
sheriff scorched.
"Speaks right out in meeting, don't he?" grinned Lane.
"I know what he is, Jack," Melissy cried. "And he knows I think he's the
lowest thing that crawls. But I've got to save you. Don't you see, I've
got to do it?"
"No, I don't see it," Flatray answered hotly. "I can take what's coming to
me, can't I? But if you save my life that way you make me as low a thing
as he is. I say I'll not have it."
Melissy could stand it no longer. She began to sob. "I--I--Oh, Jack, I've
got to do it. Don't you see? Don't you see? It won't make any difference
with me if I don't. No difference--except that you'll be--dead."
She was in his embrace, her arms around his neck, whispering the horrible
truth in his ear brokenly. And as he felt her dear young fragrance of
hair in his nostrils, the warm, soft litheness of her body against his,
the rage and terror in him flooded his veins. Could such things be? Was it
possible a man like that could live? Not if he could help it.
Gently he unfastened her arms from his neck. MacQueen was standing a dozen
feet away, his hands behind his back and his legs wide apart. As Flatray
swung around the outlaw read a warning in the blazing eyes. Just as Jack
tore loose from his guards MacQueen reached for his revolver.
The gun flashed. A red hot blaze scorched through Jack's arm. Next instant
MacQueen lay flat on his back, the sheriff's fingers tight around his
throat. If he could have had five seconds more the man's neck would have
been broken. But they dragged him away, fighting like a wild cat. They
flung him down and tied his hands behind him.
Melissy caught a glimpse of his bleeding arm, his torn and dusty face, the
appalling ferocity of the men who were hammering him into the ground. She
took a step forward blindly. The mountains in front of her tilted into the
sky. She moved forward another step, then stumbled and went down. She had
fainted.
"Just as well," MacQueen nodded. "Here, Rosario, look after the young
lady. Lift Flatray to a horse, boys, after you've blindfolded him. Good
enough. Oh, and one thing more, Flatray. You're covered by a rifle. If you
lift a hand to slip that handkerchief from your eyes, you're giving the
signal for Jeff to turn loose at you. We're going to take you away, but we
don't aim to let you out of the Cache for a few days yet."