'Btf Harold Titus. W. N O ieavici CHAPTER XIV—Continued —16— ‘‘Dawn!” he called loudly as he shoved open the door. “Hello, who's here—” He had crossed the threshold, peering into the gloom, a sudden and cold misgiving sweeping him. “Turn hack; withdraw!" a small voice warned but before tip could gather himself a blow struck him and he went down under a heavy, living weight But as KUlott went down, with his assnilaut. on top, lie drew his knees upward, bowed Ids back and with a trick of rough-and-tumble fighting used the very In> met which had floored him to toss the man on beyond. He heard him curse, saw the other turn as he pitched across the floor and scrambled to his feet. “Brandon!" he cried hoarsely as ■ savage joy swept him. Brandon did not speak. He rushed with head lowered. Great arms wrapped Ben's body, a head drove Into the pit of his stomach, driv ing the breath from his body. He fell to the floor fighting, but his blows were weak. Ineffective. A hand clutched at his throat and he tore at it with all his strength. The fingers shut down on the windpipe and he writhed under that agony, summoning all his courage, all his will to break free, to outlast that strangling pressure. But he could not do It. He went numb; his brain clouded. He lay still and then after • time, sweet air poured again into his lungs. That was all of which he wras aware for a long interval: air, bath ing his tortured chest Air. which had been denied him by the stran gling grip of a man's hand. That thought burned away the haze which enveloped him and he started to throw himself over, to rise, to he up and lighting. But he found that he was unable to move. His hands were stretched out above his head; a harsh bond held each wrist helpless. He tried to kick and failed. Ills feet were locked together and held there as by a great weight. Footsteps, then, came across the floor, and Nicholas Brandon looked down at him In the dim light, a whisky bottle in his hand, swaying a bit on unsteady feet. “So!" he grunted and laughed. “So you fell for it! So you fol lowed your blessed Dawn, eh?” He went off into a tantrum of crazy | laughter. Ben twisted slowly against his bonds and discovered that the rope ! which bound him was wet. He could no more free himself with out niil ihan he could hope to fly. “It worked!” Brnndon cried. “G—d. how it worked! ‘Dawn!’ you yelled like a fool, standing out side there. ‘Dawn!’ . . . And then stepped into my trap, eh?” He sat heavily In a chair. "It all worked, even to the weather! Yon came alone. It's starting to snow. Nobody’s nearer than the Hoot Owl and the smoke of a burning camp wouldn’t be seen twenty rods a day like this.” He leered. Smoke of a burning camp! Ben’s racing thoughts connected that idea with the odor which tilled the room. . . . His fingers felt the strands of hemp that stretched from his wrists to the posts of hunks against the wall. Surely the rope hnd been soaked in kerosene. So it was Bran don’s intent to leave him tied helpless, to fire the building. . . . Then his mind centered on thwart ing the scheme of this ruthless man gone wholly mad. . . . “Yeah. It worked ... so far,’ he replied, and grtnnod. Brandon snorted In contempt. “So far, yes; and on to the end, It’ll work. You’re tied fast, aren’t you?” —leaning low so Ben could see the cruel lights In his eyes. “You’re tied hand and foot! I’ll touch the camp off. You’ll roast . be cause this old camp’ll burn like h—1 itself! They’ll find your bones here; they’ll find an empty whisky bottle. That's all they’ll find.” Brandon had schemed competent ly: no detail which would Impli cate him seemed to have been over looked. Still, fear did not manifest Itself In Elliott’s heart; only con tempt was there for a man so mer ciless. Contempt and a stout deter mination to stall for time. “You’re smart, Brandon," he said. “I’ll a