the settlement would be

Koppy broke into an insulting laugh. "You! And the trestle ain't all we want. Who pays for last night's deaths? You blow up the trestle! What about Mr. Conrad? You let him escape."   Werner saw difficulties accumulating beyond his oft-tried powers of evasion. He stammered a disconnected tale of bad luck, wiping his face repeatedly. Koppy waved it aside.   "Morani," he ordered solemnly, "watch him. If he tries to escape--" A swift downward stroke completed the command. "We'll settle with him later."   Werner paled. He knew what the settlement would be, and the justice of it. He knew, too, the folly of protesting under the strain of the moment. So he tried to look aggrieved at their suspicions. When the conference broke up, and Morani attached himself to his heels, he smiled ingratiatingly and sauntered to the edge of the bank overlooking the camp. There he seated himself to consider his position. Escape? Even if he succeeded in evading immediate doom by giving his guard the slip, the I.W.W. would never give up the chase till he had paid the penalty of his treason.   As he sat he could see the end of the trestle through the brush. A slight bulge above the rails marked the place where the contractor lay guarding his pet. At the sight a wave of fury against Torrance swept over Werner. The boss was to blame for everything. But for his vigilance the trestle would long ago have been down.   "Chico," he snarled, "watch me pink him."

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