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Updated: June 4, 2025
"I was bringing 'em along to have them laid out here in the Meeting House, before burial." "Burial?" O'Brien's eyes opened wide. A sort of gasp went through the silent crowd of onlookers, hanging on the police officer's words. "Yes, it was a brush with the runners," Fyles said seriously. "We got them red-handed last night. It was a case of shooting, too. Two of our boys were shot up.
"Does a fellow always need to be against the law to get up against a police officer?" he inquired, with a smile of amusement. Then his smile died out, and he went on enigmatically. "Men can scrap about most anything," he said slowly. "Men who are men. I may be a poor example, but Say, when Fyles takes hold of things in Rocky Springs, I guess he isn't likely to feel kindly disposed my way.
They had gone less than two hundred yards when the officer saw the shadowy form of the Scot throw itself back in the saddle, and pull his great horse back upon its haunches. Fyles swept up on the swift-footed Peter. He, too, reined up with a jolt and leaped out of the saddle. McBain was on his knees beside the prostrate form of the sentry.
Why, you run like a rabbit from Fyles. Courage? Oh, dear. The mention of his name is enough to send you into convulsions of trepidation and maidenly confusion. And all the time you secretly admire him. As for the other, you have turned yourself into a sort of hospital nurse and temperance reformer.
You see, when one net is busted they make another. They don't seem to starve ever, do they? Ever seen a spider dead of starvation?" "Can't say I have." Bill shook his great head. "But maybe they'd get a bad time if they set their traps for any special flies or fly." Fyles raised his powerful shoulders coldly.
For one thing he belonged to the commissioned ranks, and his fall, in conjunction with his greater and wider reputation, would be far more disastrous. For McBain, reduction in rank was of lesser magnitude. His rank could be regained. For Fyles there was no such redemption. Resignation from the force was his alternative to being dismissed, and from resignation there was no recovery of rank.
Kate shook her head. "Then what do you fear?" Fyles went on patiently. Quite slowly the woman raised her big eyes to her companion's face. For some moments they steadily looked into his. Then slowly into her gaze there crept an inscrutable expression that was not wholly without a shadow of a smile. "It is your reason against my superstition," she said slowly.
"Guess we'll need to ride hard if Fyles is feeling as worried as you fellows hope." The man winked abundantly. "That's all right, all right. He'll need to hop some when we get busy. Ho, boys!" And he chirrupped his horses out of the shallow cutting, and the wagon crushed its way into the smaller bush. The leader stood for a moment looking after it.
By a great effort, however, he checked his mad impulse. "What are you doing here, Mr. Bryant?" he demanded sharply. Charlie Bryant leaned forward upon the horn of his saddle. His dark eyes were smiling, but it was not a pleasant smile. "Why, wondering what you fellows are doing here," he said calmly. Fyles stared, and again his fury nearly got the better of him.
What's the use?" he cried fiercely. "Say, have you ever had hell smashed out of your features by a lousy dude? No. Well, I owe a bit a hell of a bit to some one, and I guess I don't owe nothing in this world else but money. Debts o' this sort I generally pay when I get the chance. You're goin' to give me that chance." Fyles had satisfied himself. The man sickened him.
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