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"It's Mr. Dunke!" the young school-teacher cried aloud in

surprise.

"I've got something to say to you, Mr. Lieutenant Ranger," he

announced, with importance.

"Uncork it," was Fraser's advice.

"We don't want to have any trouble with you, but we're here for

business. This man is a cold-blooded murderer and we mean to do

justice on him."

Steve laughed insolently. "If all them that hollers for justice

the loudest got it done to them, Mr. Dunke, there'd be a right

smart shrinkage in the census returns."

Dunke's eye gleamed with anger. "We're not here to listen to any

smart guys, sir. Will you give up Struve to us or will you not?"

"That's easy. I will not."

The mob leader turned to the Tennessean. "Young man, I don't know

who you are, but if you mean to butt into a quarrel that ain't

yours all I've got to say is that you're hunting an early grave."

"We'll know about that later, seh."

"You stand pat, do you?"