"I'll give you three to do it in.

One, two----" Instinctively McTeague put his hands above his head.
Marcus rose and came towards him over the break.
"Keep 'em up," he cried.

"If you move 'em once I'll kill you, sure." He came up to McTeague and searched him, going through his pockets; but McTeague had no revolver; not even a hunting knife.
"What did you do with that money, with that five thousand dollars ?" "It's on the mule," answered McTeague, sullenly.
Marcus grunted, and cast a glance at the mule, who was standing some distance away, snorting nervously, and from time to time flattening his long ears.
"Is that it there on the horn of the saddle, there in that canvas sack ?" Marcus demanded.
"Yes, that's it." A gleam of satisfaction came into Marcus's eyes, and under his breath he muttered: "Got it at last." He was singularly puzzled to know what next to do.

He had got McTeague.
There he stood at length, with his big hands over his head, scowling at him sullenly.

Marcus had caught his enemy, had run down the man for whom every officer in the State had been looking.