"Howly Sint Patherick!" gurgled Barney Mulloy. "Oi sh'u'd soay not!

Ixchuse us from thot, me hearty!"

"That would be as bad as murder!" exclaimed Frank. "There would be one vote against us--one black bean thrown, at least."

Muriel nodded.

"I judge you-uns is right."

"Pwhat av th' carruds?"

"Yes, what of them?"

"Two men will be chosen, one ter hold a pack o' cards, and one to draw a card from them. Ef ther card is red, it lets you-uns off, fer it means life; ef it is black, it cooks yer, fer it means death."

The boys were silent, dumfounded, appalled.

It was a lottery of life and death.

Muriel stood watching them, and Frank fancied that his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction. The boy began to believe he had mistaken the character of this astonishing youth; Muriel might be even worse than his older companions, for he might be one who delighted in torturing his victims.

Frank threw back his head, defiance and scorn written on his handsome face.

"It is a clean case of murder, at best!" he cried, his voice ringing out clearly. "We deserve a fair trial--we demand it!"

"Wal," drawled the boy moonshiner, "I warned you-uns that ther more yer demanded, ther less yer got. Ye seem ter fergit that."

"We're in fur it, Frankie, me b'y!" groaned Barney.

"If we had our revolvers, we'd give them a stiff fight for it!" grated Frank, fiercely. "They would not murder us till a few of them had eaten lead!"

Muriel seemed to nod with satisfaction.

"You-uns has stuff, an' when I tell yer that ye'll have ter sta' ter vote ur take chances with ther cards, I don't judge you'll hesitate.

It's one ur t'other."

"Then, make it the cards," said Frank, hoa.r.s.ely. "That will give us an even show, if the draw is a fair one."

"I'll see ter that," a.s.sured Muriel. "It shall be fair."

Without another word, he turned and swiftly slipped out of the room.

They heard him bar the door, and then they stood looking into each other's faces, speechless for a few moments.

"It's a toss-up, Barney," Frank finally observed.

"Thot's pwhat it is, an' th' woay our luck is runnin' Oi think it's a case av heads they win an' tails we lose."

"It looks that way," admitted Frank. "But there is no way out of it.

We'll have to grin and bear it."

"Pwhat do yez think av thot Muriel?"

"He's an enigma."

"Worse than thot, me b'y--he's a cat's cradle toied in a hundred an'

sivintane knots."

"It is impossible to tell whether he is friendly or whether he is the worst foe we have in these mountains."

"Oi wonder how Kate Kenyon knew where to foind him so quick?"

"I have thought of that. She must have found him in a very short time after we were taken from the cabin."

"An' she diskivered thot we hed been taken away moighty soon afther we wur gone, me b'y. Thot is sure."

"Remember one of the horses neighed. It may have aroused Kate and her mother, and caused them to investigate."

"Loikely thot wur th' case, fer it's not mesilf thot would think she'd kape shtill an' let ther spalpanes drag us away av she knew it."

"No; I believe her utterly fearless, and it is plain that Wade Miller is not the only one in love with her."

"Who ilse?"

"Muriel."

"Mebbe ye're roight, Frankie."

"It strikes me that way. The fellow tried to lead me into a trap--tried to get me to boast of a mash on her. I could see his eyes gleam with jealousy. In her eagerness to save us--to have him aid her in the work--she must have led him to suspect that one of us had been making love to her."

Barney whistled a bit, and then he shyly said:

"Oi wunder av wan of us didn't do a bit av thot?"

"Not I," protested Frank. "We talked in a friendly manner--in fact, she promised to be a friend to me. I may have expressed admiration for her hair, or something of the sort, but I vow I did not make love to her."

"Well, me b'y, ye have a thrick av gettin' all th' girruls shtuck on yez av ye look at thim, so ye didn't nade ter make love."

"It's not my fault, Barney."

"It's nivver a fault at all, at all, me lad. Oi wish Oi wur built th'

soame woay, but it's litthle oice I cut wid th' girruls. This south av Oireland brogue thot Oi foind mesilf unable to shake counts against me a bit, Oi belave."

"I should think Miller and Muriel would clash."

"It's plain enough that Miller is afraid av Muriel."

"And Muriel intends to keep him thus. I fancy it was a good thing for us that Kate Kenyon suspected Wade Miller of having a hand in our capture, and told Muriel that we had been carried off by him, for I fancy that is exactly what happened. Muriel was angry with Miller, and he seized the opportunity to call the fellow down. But for that, he might not have made such a hustle to save us."

"Thin we should be thankful thot Muriel an' Miller do not love ache ither."