"Drink that all down, Hampton." The man did mechanically as he was ordered, his hand never relaxing its grasp of the rein.

Then a gleam of reawakened intelligence appeared in his eyes; he glanced up into the leering countenance of Murphy, and then back at those others.

"Give me another for him." Brant handed to him the filled cup, noting as he did so the strange steadiness of the hand which accepted it.

Hampton lifted the tin to the figure in the saddle, his own gaze directed straight into the eyes as he might seek to control a wild animal.
"Drink it," he commanded, curtly, "every drop!" For an instant the maniac glared back at him sullenly; then he appeared to shrink in terror, and drank swiftly.
"We can make the rest of the way now," Hampton announced, quietly.
"Lord, but this has been a trip!" Lane dismounted at Brant's order, and assisted Hampton to climb into the vacated saddle.

Then the trooper grasped the rein of Murphy's horse, and the little party started toward where the pack-train was hidden in the valley.