“For God’s sake!” screamed Gus Morris, “don’t shoot, Haines!  He’s done nothin’.  Let him go!”

“My life—­or his!” said Haines savagely.  “He’s not a man—­he’s a devil!”

Dan was laughing low—­a sound like a croon.

“Tex,” he said, “I’m goin’ to take him alive for you!”

As if in answer the dying man stirred on the floor.  Haines went for his gun, a move almost as lightning swift as that of Jim Silent, but now far, far too late.  The revolver was hardly clear of its holster when Whistling Dan’s weapon spoke.  Haines, with a curse, clapped his left hand over his wounded right forearm, and then reached after his weapon as it clattered to the floor.  Once more he was too late.  Dan tossed his gun away with a snarl like the growl of a wolf; cleared the table at a leap, and was at Haines’s throat.  The bandit fought back desperately, vainly.  One instant they struggled erect, swaying, the next Haines was lifted bodily, and hurled to the floor.  He writhed, but under those prisoning hands he was helpless.

The sheriff headed the rush for the scene of the struggle, but Dan stopped them.

“All you c’n do,” he said, “is to bring me a piece of rope.”

Jacqueline came running with a stout piece of twine which he twisted around the wrists of Haines.  Then he jerked the outlaw to his feet, and stood close, his face inhumanly pale.

“If he dies,” he said, pointing with a stiff arm back at the prostrate figure of Tex Calder, “you—­you’ll burn alive for it!”

The sheriff and two of the other men turned the body of Calder on his back.  They tore open his shirt, and Jacqueline leaned over him with a basin of water trying to wipe away the ever recurrent blood which trickled down his breast.  Dan brushed them away and caught the head of his companion in his arms.

“Tex!” he moaned, “Tex!  Open your eyes, partner, I got him for you.  I got him alive for you to look at him!  Wake up!”

As if in obedience to the summons the eyes of Calder opened wide.  The lids fluttered as if to clear his vision, but even then his gaze was filmed with a telltale shadow.

“Dan—­Whistling Dan,” he said, “I’m seeing you a long, long ways off.  Partner, I’m done for.”

The whole body of Dan stiffened.

“Done?  Tex, you can’t be!  Five minutes ago you sat at that there table, smilin’ an’ talkin’!”

“It doesn’t take five minutes.  Half a second can take a man all the way to hell!”

“If you’re goin’, pal, if you goin’, Tex, take one comfort along with you!  I got the man who killed you!  Come here!”

He pulled the outlaw to his knees beside the dying marshal whose face had lighted wonderfully.  He strained his eyes painfully to make out the face of his slayer.  Then he turned his head.

He said:  “The man who killed me was Jim Silent.”

Dan groaned and leaned close to Calder.