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"You've got one chance yet, Shike, to ride out of here alive," he said composedly. "You know I am a rustler cousin of John Rebstock's. My name is 'Frenchy'; I belong in Williams Cache. I rode in last night from Thief River, and you are riding out with me to start me on to the Sleepy Cat trail. If you can remember that much "
More than this concerning the affair Du Sang would not say, and never said. The procession turned from the door. Seagrue led the way to Rebstock's stable, and they laid Du Sang on some hay. Afterward they got a cot under him. With surprising vitality he talked a long time to Whispering Smith, but at last fell into a stupor. At nine o'clock that night he sat up.
As he did so, a man wearing a shirt and new overalls rose and started for the door. The instinct of Scott's suspicion fastened itself on the man trying to leave the place as being Rebstock's wanted companion. Rising like a flash, he covered the second man with his pistol. "Hold on!" he exclaimed, pointing at him with his left hand. "Come over here!"
And the work of destruction went forward. Adjoining the Seagrue tent stood a saloon in which the men were now ordered to demolish the stock. This renewed the excitement among Rebstock's followers. "Don't waste any time," was Stanley's order. "They may rush us. Knock in the head of a keg of whiskey, pour it over the bar, and burn the shanty."
He swung into the saddle, ignoring Rebstock's abjurations, and with Kennedy rode away. "It is hard to do anything with a man that is scared to death," said Smith to his companion. "Then, too, Rebstock's nephew is probably in this. In any case, when Du Sang has got Rebstock scared, he is a dangerous man to be abroad. We have got to smoke him out, Farrell.
With Whispering Smith and Seagrue supporting Du Sang in the saddle and Karg leading the horse, the cavalcade moved slowly down to the creek, where a tiny stream purled among the rocks. The water revived the injured man for a moment; he had even strength enough, with some help, to ride again; and, moving in the same halting order, they took him to Rebstock's cabin.
Sassoon at the resolute summons stopped. De Spain could do no less; both men, halting, faced their suspicious inquisitor. She scrutinized de Spain keenly. "What is this man doing in the Gap?" "He come up from Thief River last night," answered Sassoon monotonously. "What is he doing here with you?" persisted Nan. "He's a cousin of John Rebstock's from Williams Cache," continued Sassoon.
Rebstock turned again on his pursuer. "What do you want, anyhow, stranger?" he demanded fiercely. "A fight, I reckon." "Not a bit of it. I want you, Rebstock," explained Scott without in the least raising his voice. Rebstock's throaty tones seemed to contract into a wheeze. "What do you want me for?" he asked, looking nervously toward the other end of the car.
At the head of a short pocket between two sheer granite walls they saw Rebstock's weather-beaten cabin, and he stood in front of it smoking. He looked moodily at his visitors out of eyes buried between rolls of fat. Whispering Smith was a little harsh as the two shook hands, but he dismounted and followed Rebstock into the house.
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