The Project Gutenberg EBook of ParadiseBend, by William Patterson White

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Title: Paradise Bend

Author: William Patterson White

Illustrator: Ralph Pallen Coleman

Release Date: December 4, 2010 [EBook#34567]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKPARADISE BEND ***

Produced by Al Haines

"'Tom!' she breathed. 'Tom! you dothink I betrayed you after all...'"

PARADISE BEND

BY

WILLIAM PATTERSONWHITE

Author of"Hidden Trails," "The Owner of the Lazy D,"

"Lynch Lawyers."

FRONTISPIECE BYRALPH PALLEN COLEMAN

A. L. BURT COMPANYPublishers New York

Published by arrangement with Doubleday,Page & Company

COPYRIGHT, 1920, BYDOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDINGTHAT OF

TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGNLANGUAGES,

INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN

TO MY CAPE MAYCOUSINS

DOROTHY, BESS, ANDMARION

CONTENTSCHAPTER

I. Tom LoudonII. At the Bar S

III. Shots on Pack-Saddle

IV. The Skinned Cattle

V. Their OwnDeceivings

VI. Pestilent FellowsVII. Paradise Bend

VIII. The AmazingMackenzie

IX.

Authors of ConfusionX. The Horse Thief

XI. RocketXII. Scotty Advises

XIII. The Dance

XIV. A DeterminedWoman

XV. A Hidden TrailXVI. Kate Is Helpful

XVII. Mrs. Burr RelievesHer Mind

XVIII. A Murder and aKilling

XIX. MarysvilleXX. The Railroad Corral

XXI. The Judge's OfficeXXII. Under the Ridge

XXIII. The Smoke ofConflict

XXIV. Before the DawnXXV. Trail's End

PARADISE BEND

CHAPTER I

TOM LOUDON

"And don't forget that ribbon!" calledKate Saltoun from the ranch-house door."And don't lose the sample!"

"I won't!" shouted Tom Loudon, turningin his saddle. "I'll get her just like yousaid! Don't you worry any!"

He waved his hat to Kate, faced about,and put his horse to a lope.

"Is it likely now I'd forget?" he muttered."We'd do more'n that for her, wouldn't we,fellah?"

The horse, a long-legged chestnut namedRanger, turned back one ear. He wasaccustomed to being questioned, wasRanger. Tom Loudon loved him. He hadbought him a five-year-old from the 88ranch the year before, and he would allowno one save Kate Saltoun to ride him. Forthe sun and the moon, in the estimation ofTom Loudon, rose and set in the blackeyes of Kate Saltoun, the exceedinglyhandsome daughter of John T. Saltoun, theowner of the great Bar S ranch.

This day Loudon was riding intoFarewell for the ranch mail, and Kate hadcommissioned him to do an errand for her.To serve his lady was joy to Loudon. Hedid not believe that she was aware of hisstate of mind. A flirt was Kate, and acharming one. She played with a man as acat plays with a mouse. At which pleasantsport Kate was an adept. But Loudonrealized nothing of all this. Shrewd andpenetrative in his business, where Katewas concerned he saw nothing but theobvious.

Where the trail snaked over IndianRidge, ten miles from the ranch house,Loudon pulled up in front of a lone pinetree. On the trunk of the pine a notice wastacked. Which notice set forth briefly that

two hundred dollars' reward was offeredfor the person or persons of the unknownmiscreant or miscreants who weredepleting the herds of the Bar S and theCross-in-a-box outfits. It was signed bySheriff Block.

Who the miscreants were no one knewwith certainty. But strange tales were toldof the 88 punchers. It was whispered thatthey carried running-irons on theirsaddles. Certainly they displayed, whenriding the range, a marked aversion to thecompany of men from the other ranches.

The remains of small fires had beenfound time and again in draws borderingthe 88 range, and once a fire-markedcinch-ring had been picked up. As the

jimmy and bunch of skeleton keys in aman's pocket so are the running-iron andthe extra cinch-ring under a puncher'ssaddle-skirts. They indicate a criminaltendency; specifically, in the latter case, awhole-hearted willingness to brand thecattle of one's neighbour.

Loudon read the notice of reward, slowcontempt curling his lips.

"Signs," he said, gently. "Signs——!What we need is Vigilantes—Vigilantesan' a bale o' rope!"

He turned in his saddle and looked backover the way he had come. Fifty miles tothe south the Frying Pan Mountains lay ina cool, blue, tumbling line.

From where Loudon sat on his horse tothe Frying Pans stretched the rolling range,cut by a thin, kinked strip of cottonwoodsmarking the course of a wandering river,pockmarked with draws and shallowbasins, blotched with clumps of pine andtamarack, and humped with knolls andsprawling hills. The meandering streamwas the Lazy, and all the land in sight, andbeyond for that matter, was the famousLazy River country held by three greatranches, the Cross-in-a-box, the Bar S,and the 88.

Of these the 88 was the largest and thefarthest west of the three, its eastern linerunning along the high-bluffed banks of theFalling Horse, which emptied into theLazy some ten miles from the 88 ranch

house. East of the 88 lay the Bar S, andeast of the Bar S was the Cross-in-a-box.The two latter ranches owned the bettergrazing, the more broken country lyingwithin the borders of the 88 ranch.

Beyond the 88 range, across the FallingHorse, were the Three Sisters Mountains,a wild and jumbled tangle of peaks andnarrow valleys where the hunter and thebear and the mountain lion lived and hadtheir beings. East of the Lazy Rivercountry lay the Double Diamond A and theHog-pen outfits; north and south stretchedother ranches, but all the ranges endedwhere the Three Sisters began.

Loudon swung his gaze westward, thenslowly his eyes slid around and fastened

on the little brown dots that were theranch buildings of the Bar S. He shook hishead gently and sighed helplessly.

He was thinking partly of Kate andpartly of her father, the gray old man whoowned the Bar S and would believenothing evil of his neighbours, the hard-riding 88 boys. Loudon was morallycertain that forty cows within the last threemonths had transferred their allegiancefrom Bar S to 88, and he had hinted asmuch to Mr. Saltoun. But the latter hadlaughed him to scorn and insisted that onlya few cows had been taken and that thelifting was the work of independentrustlers, or perhaps of one of the otherranches. Nevertheless, in response to therepeated urging of his foreman, Bill

Rainey, Mr. Saltoun had joined with theCross-in-a-box in offering a reward forthe rustlers.

Loudon was well aware of the reasonfor Mr. Saltoun's fatuous blindness. Thatreason was Sam Blakely, the 88 manager,who came often to the Bar S ranch andspent many hours in the company of Kate.Mr. Saltoun did not believe that a dogwould bite the hand that fed him. But it alldepends on the breed of dog. And Blakelywas the wrong breed.

"He shore is a pup," Loudon said, softly,"an' yellow at that. He'd steal themoccasins off a dead Injun. An' Blockwould help him, the cow-thief."

Then, being young, Loudon practised theroad-agent's spin on the notice of rewardtacked on the pine tree, and planted threeaccurate bullets in the same spot.

"Here, you! What yuh doin'?" rasped agrating voice in Loudon's immediate rear.

Loudon turned an unhurried head. Tenyards distant a tall man, black-bearded, ofa disagreeable cast of countenance, wasleaning forward across an outcrop.

"I asked yuh what yuh was doin'?"repeated the peevish individual, glaring atLoudon.

"I heard yuh the first time, Sheriff,"replied Loudon, placidly. "I was just

figurin' whether to tell yuh I was shoein' ahorse or catchin' butterflies. Whichanswer would yuh like best?"

"Yuh think yo're mighty funny, TomLoudon, but I tell yuh flat if yuh don't goslow 'round here I'll find a quick way o'knockin' yore horns off."

"Yuh don't say. When yuh goin' tobegin?"

Loudon beamed upon the sheriff, his gunheld with studied carelessness. SheriffBlock walked from behind hisbreastwork, his eyes watchful, his thumbscarefully hooked in the armholes of hisvest.

"That notice ain't no target," he grunted,halting beside the pine tree.

"It is now," remarked Loudon, genially.

"It won't be no more."

"O' course not, Sheriff. I wouldn't thinko' shootin' at it if you say no. It's a rightpretty piece o' readin'. Did yuh write it allyoreself?"

The sheriff's eyes became suddenlyblank and fixed. His right thumb slowlyunhooked.

"I only fired three shots," observedLoudon, the muzzle of his six-shooterbearing on the pit of the sheriff's stomach.

The sheriff's right thumb rehooked itselfhurriedly. His frame relaxed.

"Yuh shouldn't get mad over a joke,"continued Loudon. "It's plumb foolish.Been hidin' behind that rock long?"

"I wasn't hidin' behind it. I was down inthe draw, an' I seen you a-readin' thenotice, an' I come up."

Loudon's gray eyes twinkled. He knewthat the sheriff lied. He knew that Blockhad heard his comments on Blakely andhis own worshipful person, but evidentlythe sheriff did not consider this anopportune time for taking umbrage.

"So yuh come up, did yuh? Guess yuh

thought it was one o' the rustlers driftin' into see what reward was out for him, didn'tyuh? But don't get downhearted. Maybeone'll come siftin' along yet. Why don'tyuh camp here, Sheriff? It'll be easier thanridin' the range for 'em, an' a heaphealthier. Now, Sheriff, remember what Isaid about gettin' red-headed. Say,between friends, an' I won't tell even thelittle hoss, who do you guess is doin' therustlin'?"

"If I knowed," growled the sheriff, "hisname'd be wrote on the notice."

"Would it? I was just wonderin'. Habit Igot."

"Don't you fret none about them rustlers.

I'll get 'em if it takes ten years."

"Make it twenty, Sheriff. They'll keepright on electin' yuh."

"Do yuh mean to say the rustlers electedme?" exploded the sheriff.

"O' course not," chided Loudon, gently."Now what made yuh think I meant that?"

"Well, yuh said——" began the sheriff.

"I said 'they,'" interrupted Loudon. "Yousaid 'rustlers'. Stay in the saddle, Sheriff.You'll stub your toe sometime if yuh keepon a-travellin' one jump ahead o' thehoss."

"Yo're —— smart for a cow-punch."

"It is a cinch to fool most of 'em, ain't it—especially when yo're a sheriff?"

Loudon's eyes were wide open andchild-like in their gray blandness. But thesheriff did not mistake his man. Blockknew that if his hand dropped, a bulletwould neatly perforate his abdomen. Thesheriff was not a coward, but he had senseenough not to force an issue. He couldafford to wait.

"I'll see yuh again," said the sheriff,harshly, and strode diagonally down theslope.

Loudon watched him until he vanished

among the pines a hundred yards below.Then Loudon touched his horse with thespur and rode on, chin on shoulder, handsbusy reloading his six-shooter. Threeminutes later Loudon saw the sheriff,mounted on his big black stallion, issuefrom the wood. The great horse scrambledup the hillside, gained the trail, andheaded south.

"Bet he's goin' to the 88," said Loudon."I'd give ten dollars to know what Blockwas roostin' behind that rock for. Gawd! Ishore would admire to be Sheriff o' FortCreek County for thirty days!"

Eleven miles from Indian Ridge hetopped a rise and saw below himFarewell's straggly street, flanked by

several false-fronted saloons, two stores,one hotel leaning slightly askew, and afew unkempt houses, the whole encircledby the twinkling pickets of innumerablebottles and tin cans.

He rode along the street, fetlock-deep indust, and stopped at the hotel corral.Freeing Ranger of the saddle and bridle,he opened the gate and slapped thechestnut on the hip.

"Go on in, fellah," said Loudon. "Yoredinner's a-comin'."

He walked around to the front of thehotel. Under the wooden awning a beefy,red-faced citizen was dozing in a chairtilted back against the wall. Loudon

tapped the snoring individual on theshoulder. The sleeper awoke gaspingly,his eyes winking. The chair settled on fourlegs with a crash.

"Howdy, Bill," said Loudon, gravely.

"Howdy, Tom," gurgled the other.

"Hoss in the corral an' me here, Bill.Feeds for two."

"Sure. We've done et, but you go in an'holler for Lize. She'll fix you up."

The fat landlord waddled stablewardand Loudon entered the hotel. A partitionthat did not reach the ceiling divided thesleeping apartments from the dining room.Carelessly hanging over the partition were

two shirts and someone's chaps.

The whole floor slanted, for, as has beensaid, the hotel leaned sidewise. The longtable in the dining room, covered withcracked and scaling oilcloth, was heldunsteadily upright by three legs and acracker box.

Loudon, quite untouched by this scene ofshiftlessness, hooked out a chair with hisfoot, dropped his hat on the floor, and satdown.

"Oh, Mis' Lainey!" he called.

A female voice, somewhat softened bydistance and a closed door, instantlybegan to make oration to the effect that if

any lazy chunker of a puncher thought hewas to eat any food he was very muchmistaken.

The door banged open. A slatternly,scrawny woman appeared in the doorway.She was still talking. But the clackingtongue changed its tone abruptly.

"Oh, it's you, Tom Loudon!" exclaimedthe lean woman. "How are yuh, anyway?I'm shore glad to see yuh. I thought yuhwas one o' them rousy fellers, an' Iwouldn't rustle no more chuck this noonfor the likes o' them, not if they wasstarvin' an' their tongues was hangin' out afoot. But yo're different, an' I ain't neverforgot the time you rode thirty mile for adoc when my young one was due to cash.

No, you bet I ain't! Now don't you saynothin'. You jest set right patient a shortspell an' I'll rustle——"

The door swung shut, and the remainderof the sentence was lost in a muffled dinof pans. Loudon winked at the closed doorand grinned.

He had known the waspish Mrs. Laineyand her paunchy husband since that daywhen, newly come to the Lazy Rivercountry, he had met them, their buckboardwrecked by a runaway and their one childapparently dying of internal injuries.Though Loudon always minimized what hehad done, Mrs. Lainey and her husbanddid not. And they were not folk whosememories are short.

In less than twenty minutes Mrs. Laineybrought in a steak, fried potatoes, andcoffee. The steak was fairly tough, sowere the potatoes, and the coffee requireda copious quantity of condensed milk torender it drinkable. But Loudon ate with arider's appetite. Mrs. Lainey, arms foldedin her apron, leaned against the doorjamb,and regaled him with the news ofFarewell.

"Injun Joe got drunk las' week an' triedto hogtie Riley's bear. It wasn't hardlyworth while buryin' Joe, but they done it.Mis' Stonestreet has a new baby. This onemakes the twelfth. Yep, day beforeyestiddy. Charley's so proud over it heain't been sober since. Slep' in thewaterin'-trough las' night, so he did, an'

this mornin' he was drunk as ever. But henever did do things by halves, that CharleyStonestreet. Ain't the heat awful? Yep, it'sworse'n that. Did yuh hear about——"

Poor, good-hearted Mrs. Lainey. Withher, speech was a disease. Loudon ate ashurriedly as he could, and fled to thesidewalk. Bill Lainey, who had fallenasleep again, roused sufficiently to acceptsix bits.

"Mighty drowsy weather, Tom," hemumbled.

"It must be," said Loudon. "So long."

Leaving the sleepy Lainey to resume hisfavourite occupation, Loudon walked

away. Save Lainey, no human beings werevisible on the glaring street. In front of thePalace Saloon two cow-ponies drooped.Near the postoffice stood another, bearingon its hip the Cross-in-a-box brand.

From the door of the postoffice issuedthe loud and cheerful tones of a voicewhose owner was well pleased with theworld at large.

"Guess I'll get that ribbon first," saidLoudon to himself, and promptly walkedbehind the postoffice.

He had recognized the cheerful voice. Itwas that of his friend, Johnny Ramsay,who punched cows for the Cross-in-a-boxoutfit. And not for a month's pay would

Loudon have had Johnny Ramsay see himpurchasing yards of red ribbon. Ramsay'ssense of humour was too well developed.

When four houses intervened betweenhimself and the postoffice Loudonreturned to the street and entered the BluePigeon Store. Compared with mostWestern frontier stores the Blue Pigeonwas compactly neat. A broad counterfenced off three sides of the store proper.

Behind the counter lines of packedshelves lined the walls from floor toceiling. Between the counter and theshelves knotted ropes, a long arm's-lengthapart, depended from the rafters. Abovethe canvas-curtained doorway in the rearhung the model of a black-hulled, slim-

sparred clipper.

At the jingle of Loudon's spurs on thefloor the canvas curtain was pushed aside,and the proprietor shuffled and thumped,for his left leg was of wood, into the store.He was a red-headed man, was MikeFlynn, the proprietor, barrel-chested,hairy-armed, and even the backs of hisham-like hands were tattooed.

"Good aft'noon to yuh, Tom," said MikeFlynn. "'Tis a fine day—hot, mabbe, butI've seen worse in the Horse Latitudes.An' what is it the day?"

"Red ribbon, Mike," replied Loudon,devoutly thankful that no other customerwas in the store.

Mike glanced at the sample in TomLoudon's hand.

"Shore, an' I have that same, width an'all," he said, and forthwith seizing one ofthe knotted ropes he pulled himself handover hand to the top shelf.

Hanging by one hand he fumbled amoment, then lowered himself to the floor.

"An' here yuh are!" he exclaimed. "Thefinest ribbon that ever come West.Matches the bit yuh have like a twinbrother. One dollar two bits a yard."

"I'll take five yards."

"Won't yuh be needin' a new necktienow?" inquired Mike Flynn, expertly

measuring off the ribbon. "I've a fine lot in—grane ones, an' blue ones, an' purpleones wit' white spots, an' some black oneswit' red an' yaller figgers, not to spake o'some yaller ones wit' vi'let horseshoes.Very fancy, thim last. God be with theould days! Time was when I'd not havetouched yaller save wit' me foot, but 'tisso long since I've hove a brick at anOrangeman that the ould feelin' ain't nearso strong as it was. An' here's the ribbon,Tom. About them neckties now. They'reworth seein'. One minute an' I'll delightyore eyes."

Rapidly Mike Flynn stumped around tothe other side of the room, pulled downseveral long boxes and deftly laid them,covers off, on the counter. Loudon did

need a new necktie. What man in lovedoes not? He passed over the yellow oneswith violet horseshoes so stronglyrecommended by Mike Flynn, and boughtone of green silk.

"Yo're a lad after me own heart, TomLoudon," said Mike Flynn, wrapping thenecktie. "Grane's best when all's said an'done. The colour of ould Ireland, Godbless her. An' here comes JohnnyRamsay."

Loudon hastily stuffed his purchasesinside his flannel shirt, and in a carelesstone asked for a box of forty-five calibrecartridges. He turned just in time to wardoff the wild rush of Johnny Ramsay, whoendeavoured to seize him by the belt and

waltz him round the store.

"Wow! Wow!" yelled Johnny. "How'sTommy? How's the boy? Allemane left,you old bronc buster!"

"Quit it, you idjit!" bawled Loudon, thecrushing of ribbon and necktie beingimminent.

Ramsay stepped back and proddedLoudon's breast with an inquiring finger.

"Paddin'," he said, solemnly. "Tryin' togive yoreself a chest, ain't yuh, you oldbean-pole? Ouch!"

For Loudon had dug a hard knuckle intohis friend's left side, and it was Ramsay'sturn to yell. From behind the counter Mike

Flynn beamed upon them. He liked themwell, these careless youngsters of therange, and their antics were a source ofnever-ending amusement.

Entered then a tall, lean man with blackhair, and a face the good looks of whichwere somewhat marred by a thin-lippedmouth and sharp, sinister eyes. But for allthat Sam Blakely, the manager of the 88ranch, was a very handsome man. Henodded to the three, his lips parting overwhite teeth, and asked Mike Flynn for arope.

"Here's yore cartridges, Tom," calledMike, and turned to the rear of the store.

Loudon picked up his box of cartridges,

stuffing them into a pocket in his chaps.

"Let's irrigate," he said to Ramsay.

"In a minute," replied his friend. "I wantsome cartridges my own self."

The two sat down on the counter to wait.Blakely strolled across to the open boxesof neckties.

"Cravats," he sneered, fingering them.

"An' —— fine ones!" exclaimed MikeFlynn, slamming down the coil of rope onthe counter. "Thim yaller ones wit' vi'letspots now, yuh couldn't beat 'em in NewYork. An' the grand grane ones. Ain't theythe little beauts? I just sold one to TomLoudon."

"Green shore does suit some people,"said the 88 manager, coldly.

Loudon felt Johnny Ramsay stiffenbeside him. But Loudon merely smiled aslow, pleasant smile.

"Hirin' any new men, Sam?" he inquired,softly, his right hand cuddling close to hisbelt.

"What do yuh want to know for?"demanded Blakely, wheeling.

"Why, yuh see, I was thinkin' o' quittin'the Bar S, an' I'd sort o' like to get with agood, progressive outfit, one that don'tmiss any chances."

Loudon's voice was clear and incisive.

Each word fell with the precision of apebble falling into a well. Mike Flynnbacked swiftly out of range.

"What do yuh mean by that?" demandedBlakely, his gaze level.

"What I said," replied Loudon, staringinto the other's sinister black eyes. "Ishore do hate to translate my words."

For a long minute the two men gazedsteadily at each other. Neither made amove. Blakely's hand hung at his side.Loudon's hand had not yet touched his gun-butt. But Blakely could not know that, forLoudon's crossed knees concealed theposition of his hand.

Loudon was giving Blakely an evenchance. He knew that Blakely was quickon the draw, but he believed that hehimself was quicker. Blakely evidentlythought, so too, for suddenly he gruntedand turned his back on Loudon.

"What's that?" inquired Blakely, pointinga finger at one end of the rope.

"What—oh, that!" exclaimed Mike."Sure, that's what a seaman calls whippin'.The holdfast was missin', an' the rope wasbeginning' to unlay, so I whipped the endof it. 'Twill keep the rope from frayin' out,do yuh mind. An' it's the last rope I have instock, too."

Loudon, watching Blakely's hands, saw

that what Mike Flynn called whipping waswhip-cord lapped tightly a dozen turns orso round the end of the rope. Blakely,without another word, paid for the rope,picked it up, and departed, head high,sublimely indifferent to the presence ofLoudon. Mike Flynn heaved a heartfeltsigh of relief.

"Praise be!" he ejaculated. "I'd thoughtto lose a customer a minute back." Then,recollecting himself, he added quickly,"What was that yuh said about cartridges,Johnny?"

CHAPTER II

AT THE BAR S

"That's a good-lookin' goat," observedcheerful Johnny Ramsay, watching Loudonthrow the saddle on the long-leggedchestnut. "All he needs is horns an' a maa-a-a."

"What particular tune can you play onit?" retorted Loudon, passing the cinch-strap.

"On what?" inquired Ramsay,incautiously.

"On that four-legged accordeon yo'restraddlin'."

"I wouldn't say nothin' about noaccordeons—not if I was abusin' a poorbilly by cinchin' a hull on his back.Honest, Tommy, don't yuh like ridin' ahoss? 'Fraid he'll throw yuh or somethin'?"

"Don't yuh worry none about this littlecayuse. He's all hoss, he is, an' if yuh don'tmind, Johnny, I'd be a heap obliged ifyuh'd follow behind when we ride out o'town. Somebody might see us together an'take yuh for a friend o' mine, an' thatwouldn't do nohow."

"Please, mister," whined JohnnyRamsay, "let me go with yuh. I knowwhere there's a pile o' nice tomatter cansfor the goat's supper. Red Rose tomattercans, too. There's more nourishment in

them kind than there is in the Blue Starbrand. Hey, quit!"

Loudon had suddenly flipped a brokenhorseshoe at the hindquarters of Ramsay'spony, that surprised animal going into theair immediately. When Ramsay hadquieted his wild-eyed mount, the twofriends rode away together.

"I wonder why Blakely didn't go to it,"remarked Ramsay, when Farewell laybehind them.

"Dunno," said Loudon. "He wasn'tafraid, yuh can gamble on that."

"I ain't none so shore. He's bad plumbthrough, Blakely is. An' he's a killer, by

his eyes. I guess it was just the extra shadehe wanted, an' the extra shade wasn'tthere. You'd 'a' got him, Tom."

"Shore! But don't yuh make no mistakeabout Blakely bein' a coward. He ain't.He's seen trouble, an' seen it in thesmoke."

"You mean Skinner Jack. Well, Jackwasn't slow with a gun, but the other twowas Injuns, an' they only had Winchesters,an' Blakely he had a Sharp's. So yuh can'ttally the war-whoops. An' I did hear howSkinner Jack was drunk when he calledBlakely a liar."

"I doubt it. Skinner could always holdhis red-eye. More likely his gun caught."

"Anyway, Tommy, you'd better not gocavortin' about on the skyline tooplenteous. It wouldn't bother Blakely noneto bushwhack yuh."

"Oh, he wouldn't do that. He ain't thebushwhackin' kind."

"Oh, ain't he? Now just because he ain'tnever done nothin' like that, it don't provehe won't. He's got a killer's eyes, I tellyuh, an' drillin' yuh would tickle him todeath. Yuh run a blazer on him, an' he quitcold. Other gents seen the play. He won'tnever forget that. He'll down yuh on thesquare, or what looks like an even break,if he can. But if he can't he'll down yuhanyway."

"Rustlers ramblin' over yore way any?"inquired Loudon in a meaning tone.

Johnny Ramsay struck his saddle-horn aresounding thwack with his open palm.

"If we could only get him that way!" heexclaimed. "But he's slicker'n axle-grease."

"The 88 will brand one calf too manysome day. Hell's delight! What do they dowith 'em? Yuh ride the range an' yuh ridethe range an' yuh don't find no cows withunhealed brands. I seen twelve, though,with the 88 brand that looked like somegent had been addin' to Bar S with arunnin'-iron. But the brands was all healedup. Anyway, we've lost forty cows, an' I

dunno how many calves."

"They'll turn up again."

"Shore—carryin' the 88 brand. My ideais that them rustlers brand 'em an' thenhold 'em in some blind cañon over nearthe Fallin' Horse till the burns heal up, an'then they throw 'em loose on the rangeagain. If the cows do drift across to theBar S, what's the dif? They got the 88brand."

"That sounds good. Why don't yuh take alittle wander 'round the scenery near theFallin' Horse?"

"I have; I didn't see nothin'. But they got'em hid somewhere all right. One day I

runs across Marvin, an' I had a job losin'him. He stuck to me closer'n tar all day.He was worried some, I seen that."

"Goin' back?"

"Till I find their cache, I am."

"That's another reason for makin'Blakely so friendly. He knows yuh won'tstop lookin'. Ain't it the devil an' all? Themeasly Sheriff just squats down on hishunkers an' does nothin' while we losecows in car-lots. An' when our cows go,we kiss 'em good-bye. They never comeback—not even with their brand altered.Yuh can't change Cross-in-a-box to 88."

"With the Bar S it's a cinch. But the boss

won't use another brand. Not him. He'llstick to Bar S till he ain't got a cow to runthe iron on."

"Oh, it's a great system the 88 outfit areworkin'! An' with Sheriff Block an' mostall o' Marysville an' Farewell theirfriends it's a hard game to buck. Talk o'law! There ain't none in Fort CreekCounty."

"The only play is Vigilantes, an' it can'tcome to them till there's proof. We allknow Blakely an' the 88 bunch are up totheir hocks in this rustlin' deal, but wecan't prove it."

"There's the worst o' bein' straight,"complained Johnny Ramsay. "Yuh know

some tinhorn is a-grabbin' all yuh own.Yo're certain shore who the gent is, butyuh can't hop out an' bust him without yuhcatch him a-grabbin' or else a-wearin'yore pet pants."

"That's whatever," agreed Loudon.

Five miles out of Farewell, where thetrail forked, one branch leading southeastto the Cross-in-a-box, the other to the BarS, Loudon checked his horse.

"Keep a-goin'," said Johnny Ramsay."I'm travellin' with you a spell. I'm kind o'sick o' that old trail. I've rode it sofrequent I know all the rocks an' thecotton-woods by their first names."

Which explanation Loudon did notaccept at its face value. He understoodperfectly why Ramsay continued to ridewith him. Ramsay believed that Blakelywould endeavour to drop Loudon fromambush, and it is well known that agentleman lying in wait for another willoften stay his hand when his intendedvictim is accompanied. Neither Loudonnor Ramsay made any mention of the trueinwardness of his thoughts. They had beenfriends for a long time.

Climbing the long slope of Indian Ridge,they scanned the trail warily. But nowheredid the hoofprints of Blakely's horse leavethe dust of the trail. On the reverse slopeof the ridge they picked up the largerhoofprints of Block's horse. Fair and plain

the two sets of marks led southward.

"Wonder who the other gent was,"hazarded Ramsay.

"Block," said Loudon, "I met him thismornin'. I was puttin' holes in his notice,an' he didn't like it none."

"Did he chatter much?"

"He talked a few, but nothin' to hurt."

"The tinhorn!" laughed Ramsay. "Bethe's goin' to the 88."

"It's some likely. We'll know when wereach Long Coulee."

They reached Long Coulee, where the

trail to the 88 swung westward, as the sunwas dropping behind the far-away peaksof the Three Sisters Mountains. Loudonslipped his feet from the stirrups andstretched luxuriously. But he did not feelluxurious.

As he had expected, Block had turnedinto the 88 trail, but as he had notexpected Blakely had ridden straight ontoward the Bar S. Which latter event wasdisquieting, not that Loudon feared an actof violence on the part of Blakely, butbecause Kate's evening would bepreëmpted by his enemy.

Loudon keenly desired to talk to Katethat evening. He had a great many things totell her, and now the coming of Blakely

spoiled it all.

"The nerve o' some folks," remarkedJohnny Ramsay, eying the tracks ofBlakely's horse with disfavour. "Bettertell old Salt to lock up the silver an' thecuckoo clock. No offence now, Tommy,but if I was you, I'd sleep in the corral to-night. Blakely might take a fancy to thegoat."

"I shore hope he does," grinned Loudon."It would ease the strain some."

"Make it complete, old beanpole, whenyou do call the turn. Well, I got to beskippin'. Give my love to old Salt. Solong."

"So long."

Johnny Ramsay picked up his reins,wheeled his pony, and fox-trotted away.He felt that further accompanying ofLoudon was unnecessary. The danger ofan ambush was past. Riding with Loudonhad taken Ramsay some fifteen miles outof his way, and twenty-five long miles laybetween his pony's nose and the corralbars of the Cross-in-a-box ranch. ButRamsay wasted not a thought on hislengthened journey. He would have riddencheerfully across the territory and backagain in order to benefit a friend.

"Come on, fellah," said Loudon, whenRamsay had gone.

The chestnut moved off at a walk.Loudon did not hurry him. He took out hispapers and tobacco and rolled a cigarettewith neatness and despatch. Tilting backhis head, he blew the first lungful ofsmoke straight up into the air.

"It wouldn't be right for her to marryhim," he observed. "She shore is onepretty girl. I wonder now if I have got anychance. She's rich, an' I ain't, but I shoredo love her a lot. Kate Loudon—that's aright nice-soundin' name."

He lowered his head and smokedsilently for several minutes. The horse,reins on his neck, swung along steadily.

"Ranger fellah," said Loudon, "she'd

ought to be willin' to wait till we make astake, oughtn't she now? That's right.Wiggle one ear for yes. You know, don'tyuh, old tiger-eye?"

When the lights of the ranch sparkedacross the flat, Ranger pointed his ears,lifted his head, and broke into a foxtrot.Passing the ranch house, on his way to thecorral, Loudon heard the merry tinkle of aguitar. Through an open window Loudonsaw the squat figure of Mr. Saltoun bentover a desk. On the porch, in the cornerwhere the hammock hung, flickered theglowing tip of a cigarette. With a doublethrum of swept strings the guitar-player inthe hammock swung from "The KerryDance" into "Loch Lomond."

Loudon swore under his breath, and rodeon.

Jimmy, the cook, and Chuck Morgan, oneof the punchers, were lying in their bunkssquabbling over the respective merits ofTexas and New Mexico when Loudonentered the bunkhouse. Both menimmediately ceased wrangling anddemanded letters.

"I ain't read 'em all yet," replied Loudon,dropping his saddle and bridle in acorner. "Wait till to-morrow."

"Jimmy's expectin' one from a red-headed gal," grinned Chuck Morgan. "He'sbeen restless all day. 'Will she write?'says he, 'an' I wonder if she's sick or

somethin'.' Don't you worry none, cookie.Them red-headed gals live forever.They're tough, same as a yaller hoss."

"You shut up!" exclaimed Jimmy."Who'd write to you, you frazzled end of amisspent life? D'jever look at yoreself inthe glass? You! Huh! Gimme my letter,Tommy."

"Letter? What letter? I didn't say therewas a letter for yuh."

"Well, ain't there?"

"You gimme somethin' to eat, an' thenwe'll talk about letters."

"You got a nerve!" roared the cook,indignantly. "Comin' rollickin' in 'round

midnight an' want yore chuck! Well, thereit is"—indicating Chuck Morgan—"go eatit."

"You fry him an' I will. I'll gamble hewouldn't taste any worse than them steaksyou've been dishin' out lately."

"You punchers gimme a pain," growledthe cook, swinging his legs out of thebunk. "Always eatin,' eatin'. I never seennothin' like it nohow."

"He's sore 'cause Buff put a li'l deadsnake in his bunk," explained ChuckMorgan placidly. "Just a li'l snake—notmore'n three foot long at the outside. Heshore is the most fault-findin' feller, thatJimmy is."

"There ain't anythin' for yuh, Chuck,"said Loudon. "Here's yore letter, Jimmy."

The cook seized the grimy missive andretreated to his kitchen. Twenty minuteslater Loudon was eating supper. He ateleisurely. He was in no hurry to go up tothe ranch house.

"Got the makin's!" Chuck Morgan'svoice was a roar.

"Be careful," said Loudon, turning aslow head. "Yo're liable to strain yorethroat, an' for a fellah talkin' as much asyou do, that would shore be a calamity."

"It shore would," agreed Morgan. "I onlyasked yuh for the makin's three times

before I hollered."

"Holler first next time," advised Loudon,tossing paper and tobacco across toMorgan. "Have yuh got matches? Perhapsyuh'd like me to roll yuh a pill an' thenlight it for yuh?"

"Oh, that ain't necessary; none whatever.I got matches. They're all I got left. Thisaft'noon Jimmy says 'gimme a pipeful,' an'I wants to say right here that any jiggerthat'll smoke a pipe will herd sheep.'Gimme a load,' says Jimmy. 'Shore,' saysI, an' Jimmy bulges up holdin' the father ofall corncobs in his hand. I forks over mybag, an' Jimmy wades in to fill the pipe.But that pipe don't fill up for a pluggednickel.

"He upends my bag, shakes her empty,an' hands her back. 'Thanks,' says Jimmy.'That's all right,' I says, 'keep the bag, too.It'll fit in right handy to mend yore shirtwith, maybe.' Come to find out, that pipeo' Jimmy's hadn't no bottom in her, an' allthe tobacco run through an' into a bagJimmy was holdin' underneath. A reg'larInjun trick, that is. Yuh can't tell me Jimmyain't been a squaw-man. Digger Injuns,too, I'll bet."

Jimmy, leaning against the door-jamb,laughed uproariously.

"Yah," he yelped. "I'll teach yuh to stealmy socks, I will. I'd just washed a wholepair an' I was a-dryin' 'em behind thehouse, an' along comes Chuck an' gloms

both of 'em, the hawg."

Leaving the two wrangling it outbetween them, Loudon pushed back hischair and went to the door. For a time hestood looking out into the night. Then hewent to his saddle, picked up the bagcontaining the mail for Mr. Saltoun, andleft the bunkhouse.

On the way to the ranch house he tookout of his shirt the parcel of ribbon andsmoothed it out. Skirting the house on theside farthest from the porch corner wheresat Kate and Blakely, Loudon entered thekitchen and walked through the diningroom to the open doorway of the office.Mr. Saltoun half turned at Loudon'sentrance.

"Hello," said Mr. Saltoun, screwing uphis eyes. "I was just wonderin' when you'dpull in."

"'Lo," returned Loudon. "Here's the mail,an' here's a package for Miss Kate."

There was a rush of skirts, andhandsome, black-haired Kate Saltoun, herdark eyes dancing, stood in the doorway.

"Did you get my ribbon, Tom?" criedshe, and pounced on the flat parcel beforeLoudon could reply.

She smiled and glowed and held theribbon under her olive chin, exclaimedover it and thanked Loudon all in a breath.Her father beamed upon her. He loved this

handsome girl of his.

"Come out on the porch, Tom," saidKate, "when you're through with father.Mr. Blakely's here. Thank you again forbringing my ribbon."

Kate swished away, and Mr. Saltoun'sbeaming expression vanished also. Mr.Saltoun was not especially keen. Herarely saw anything save the obvious, butfor several weeks he had been under theimpression that Kate and this tall, leanpuncher with the gray eyes were toofriendly.

And here was Kate, while entertainingthe 88 manager, inviting Loudon to joinher on the porch. Mr. Saltoun was

ambitious for his daughter. He had not theremotest intention of receiving into hisfamily a forty-dollar-a-month cowhand.He would have relished firing Loudon.But the latter was a valuable man. He wasthe best rider and roper in the outfit. Goodcowboys do not drift in on the heels ofevery vagrant breeze.

Mr. Saltoun resolved to keep an eye onLoudon and arrange matters so that Kateand the puncher should meet seldom, if atall. He knew better than to speak to hisdaughter. That would precipitate matters.

By long experience Mr. Saltoun hadlearned that opposition always stiffenedKate's determination. From babyhood herfather had spoiled her. Consequently the

Kate of twenty-three was hopelesslyintractable.

Mr. Saltoun drummed on the desk-topwith a pencil. Loudon shifted his feet. Hehad mumbled a non-committal reply toKate's invitation. Not for a great dealwould he have joined the pair on theporch. But Mr. Saltoun did not know that.

"Chuck tells me," said Mr. Saltoun,suddenly, "that he jerked five cows out o'that mud-hole on Pack-saddle Creek nearBox Hill. Yeah, that one. To-morrow Iwant yuh to ride along Pack-saddle an'take a look at them other two holesbetween Box Hill an' Fishtail Coolee. Ifyuh see any cows driftin' west, head 'emeast. When that —— barb-wire comes—if

it ever does, an' I ordered it a month ago—you an' Chuck can fence them threemud-holes. Better get an early start, Tom."

"All right," said Loudon, and made anunhurried withdrawal—by way of thekitchen.

Once in the open air Loudon smiled aslow smile. He had correctly divined thetenor of his employer's thoughts. Before hereached the bunkhouse Loudon hadresolved to propose to Kate Saltounwithin forty-eight hours.

CHAPTER III

SHOTS ON PACK-SADDLE

"I woke up one mornin' on the old Chisolmtrail,Rope in my hand an' a cow by the tail.Crippled my hoss, I don't know how,Ropin' at the horns of a 2-U cow."

Thus sang Loudon, carrying saddle andbridle to the corral in the blue light ofdawn. Chuck Morgan was before him atthe corral, and wrestling with a fractiousgray pony.

"Whoa! yuh son of sin!" yelled Morgan,

wrenching the pony's ear. "Stand still, orI'll cave in yore slats!"

"Kick him again," advised Loudon,flicking the end of his rope across theback of a yellow beast with a black maneand tail.

The yellow horse stopped trottinginstantly. He was rope-broke. It wasunnecessary to "fasten," thanks toLoudon's training.

"They say yuh oughtn't to exercise rightafter eatin'," continued Loudon, genially."An' yo're mussin' up this nice corral, too,Chuck."

"I'll muss up this nice little gray devil!"

gasped Chuck. "When I git on him I'llplow the hide offen him. —— his soul!He's half mule."

"He takes yuh for a relative!" calledJimmy, who had come up unobserved."Relatives never do git along nohow!"

Jimmy fled, pursued by pebbles. Thepanting and outraged Chuck returned to histask of passing the rear cinch. Stillswearing, he joined Loudon at the gate.The two rode away together.

"That sorrel o' Blakely's," observedChuck, his fingers busy with paper andtobacco, "is shore as pretty as a little redwagon."

"Yeah," mumbled Loudon.

"I was noticin' him this mornin',"continued Chuck Morgan. "He's got thecleanest set o' legs I ever seen."

"This mornin'," said Loudon, slowly,"Where'd yuh see Blakely's sorrel thismornin'?"

"In the little corral. He's in there with theOld Man's string."

Loudon pulled his hat forward andstarted methodically to roll a cigarette. SoBlakely had spent the night at the ranch.This was the first time he had ever stayedovernight.

What did it mean? Calling on Kate was

one thing, but spending the night was quiteanother.

With the fatuous reasoning of a mandeeply in love, Loudon refused to believethat Blakely could be sailing closer to thewind of Kate's affections than he himself.Yet there remained the fact of Blakely'sextended visit.

"We've been losin' right smart o' cowslately," remarked Chuck Morgan.

"What's the use o' talkin'?" exclaimedLoudon, bitterly. "The Old Man says weain't, an' he's the boss."

"He won't say so after the round-up.He'll sweat blood then. If I could only

catch one of 'em at it. Just one. But themthievin' 88 boys are plumb wise. An' theOld Man thinks they're little he-angelswith four wings apiece."

"Yuh can't tell him nothin'. He knows."

"An' Blakely comes an' sets around, an'the Old Man laps up all he says like a cat,an' Blakely grins behind his teeth. I'dshore like to know his opinion o' the OldMan."

"An' us."

"An' us. Shore. The Old Man can't beexpected to know as much as us. You cangamble an' go the limit Blakely has ussized up for sheep-woolly baa-lambs."

Morgan made a gesture of exasperation.

"We will be sheep," exclaimed Loudon,"if we don't pick up somethin' against the88 before the round-up! We're full-sized,two-legged men, ain't we? Got eyes, ain'twe? There ain't nothin' the matter with ourhands, is there? Yet them 88 boys put it allover our shirt. Blakely's right. We'rerelated plumb close to sheep, an' blindsheep at that."

"Them 88 boys have all the luck,"grunted Chuck Morgan. "But their luckwill shore break if I see any of 'em a-foolin' with our cows. So long."

Chuck Morgan rode off eastward. Hisbusiness was with the cattle near Cow

Creek, which stream was one of the twodividing the Bar S range from that of theCross-in-a-box. Loudon, his eyescontinually sliding from side to side,loped onward. An hour later he forded theLazy River, and rode along the bank to themouth of Pack-saddle Creek.

The course he was following was not theshortest route to the two mud-holesbetween Box Hill and Fishtail Coulee. Butsouth of the Lazy the western line of theBar S was marked by Pack-saddle Creek,and Loudon's intention was to ride alongthe creek from mouth to source.

There had been no rain for a month. Ifany cows had been driven across thestream he would know it. Twice before he

had ridden the line of the creek, but hislabours had not been rewarded. YetLoudon did not despair. His was a hopefulsoul.

Occasionally, as he rode, he saw cows.Here and there on the bank were clovenhoofprints, showing where cattle hadcome down to drink. But none of them hadcrossed since the rain. And there were nomarks of ponies' feet.

At the mud-hole near Box Hill a lonecow stood belly-deep, stolidly awaitingdeath.

"Yuh poor idjit," commented Loudon,and loosed his rope from the saddle-horn.

The loop settled around the cow's horns.The yellow pony, cunningly holding hisbody sidewise that the saddle might not bepulled over his tail, strained with all fourlegs.

"C'mon, Lemons!" encouraged Loudon."C'mon, boy! Yuh old yellow lump o'bones! Heave! Head or cow, she's got tocome!"

Thus adjured the pony strove mightily.The cow also exerted itself. Slowly thetenacious grip of the mud was broken.With a suck and a plop the cow surgedfree. It stood, shaking its head.

Swiftly Loudon disengaged his rope,slapped the cow with the end of it, and

urged the brute inland.

Having chased the cow a full half-milehe returned to the mud-hole anddismounted. For he had observed thatupon a rock ledge above the mud-holewhich he wished to inspect more closely.What he had noted was a long scratchacross the face of the broad flat ledge ofrock. But for his having been drawn inclose to the ledge by the presence of thecow in the mud-hole, this single scratchwould undoubtedly have escaped hisattention.

Loudon leaned over and scrutinized thescratch. It was about a foot long, a quarterof an inch broad at one end, taperingroughly to a point. Ordinarily such a mark

would have interested Loudon not at all,but under the circumstances it might meanmuch. The side-slip of a horse's iron-shodhoof had made it. This was plain enough.It was evident, too, that the horse had beenridden. A riderless horse does not slip ongently sloping rocks.

Other barely visible abrasions showedthat the horse had entered the water. Whyhad someone elected to cross at thispoint? Pack-saddle Creek was fordable inmany places. Below the mud-hole fourfeet and less was the depth. But oppositethe rock ledge was a scour-hole fully tenfeet deep shallowing to eight in the middleof the stream. Here was no crossing for anhonest man in his senses. But for one ofquestionable purpose, anxious to conceal

his trail as much as possible, no bettercould be chosen.

"Good thing his hoss slipped," saidLoudon, and returned to the waitingLemons.

Mounting his horse he forded the creekand rode slowly along the bank. Oppositethe lower end of the ledge he found thatwhich he sought. In the narrow belt ofbare ground between the water's edge andthe grass were the tracks of several cowsand one pony. Straight up from the waterthe trail led, and vanished abruptly whenit reached the grass.

"Five cows," said Loudon. "Nothin'mean about that jigger."

He bent down to examine the tracksmore closely, and as he stooped a riflecracked faintly, and a bullet whisped overhis bowed back.

Loudon jammed home both spurs, andjumped Lemons forward. Plying his quirt,he looked over his shoulder.

A puff of smoke suddenly appearedabove a rock a quarter of a miledownstream and on the other side of thecreek. The bullet tucked into the groundclose beside the pony's drumming hoofs.

Loudon jerked his Winchester from itsscabbard under his leg, turned in thesaddle, and fired five shots as rapidly ashe could work the lever. He did not expect

to score a hit, but earnestly hoped to shakethe hidden marksman's aim. He succeededbut lamely.

The enemy's third shot cut through hisshirt under the left armpit, missing theflesh by a hair's-breadth. Loudon racedover the lip of a swell just as a fourth shotripped through his hat.

Hot and angry, Loudon jerked Lemons toa halt half-way down the reverse slope.Leaving his horse tied to the ground he ranback and lay down below the crest. Heremoved his hat and wriggled forward tothe top.

Cautiously lifting his head he surveyedthe position of his unknown opponent. A

half-mile distant, on the Bar S side of thePack-saddle, was the rock whichsheltered the marksman. A small dark dotappeared above it.

Taking a long aim Loudon fired at thedot. As he jerked down the lever toreload, a gray smoke-puff mushroomed outat the lower right-hand corner of the rock,and a violent shock at the elbow numbedhis right hand.

Loudon rolled swiftly backward, sat up,and stared wonderingly at his two hands.One held his Winchester, but gripped inthe cramped fingers of the right hand wasthe bent and broken lever of the rifle. Thebullet of the sharp-shooting citizen hadstruck the lever squarely on the upper end,

snapped the pin, torn loose the lever, andhopelessly damaged the loadingmechanism.

"That jigger can shore handle a gun,"remarked Loudon. "If this ain't one lovelyfix for a Christian! Winchester no good,only a six-shooter, an' a fully-organizedmiracle-worker a-layin' for my hide. I'ma-goin' somewhere, an' I'm goin' rightnow."

He dropped the broken lever and rubbedhis numbed fingers till sensation returned.Then he put on his hat and hurried down tohis horse.

He jammed the rifle into the scabbard,mounted, and rode swiftly southward,

taking great pains to keep to the lowground.

A mile farther on he forded the creekand gained the shelter of an outflungshoulder of Box Hill.

Near the top Loudon tied Lemons to atree and went forward on foot. Cautiouslyas an Indian, Loudon traversed the flat topof the hill and squatted down in a bunch oftall grass between two pines. From thisvantage-point his field of view was wide.The rock ledge and the mud-hole were inplain sight. So was the rock from which hehad been fired upon. It was a long miledistant, and it lay near the crest of a lowhog's-back close to the creek.

"He's got his hoss down behind theswell," muttered Loudon. "Wish this hillwas higher."

Loudon pondered the advisability ofclimbing a tree. He wished very much toobtain a view of the depression behind thehog's-back. He finally decided to remainwhere he was. It was just possible that thehostile stranger might be provided withfield glasses. In which case tree-climbingwould invite more bullets, and theshooting of the enemy was too nearlyaccurate for comfort.

Loudon settled himself comfortably inhis bunch of grass and watched intently.Fifteen or twenty minutes later what wasapparently a part of the rock detached

itself and disappeared behind the crest ofthe hog's-back.

Soon the tiny figure of a mounted mancame into view on the flat beyond. Horseand rider moved rapidly across the levelground and vanished behind a knoll. Whenthe rider reappeared he was not more thannine hundred yards distant and gallopinghard on a course paralleling the base ofthe hill.

"Good eye," chuckled Loudon. "Goin' tosurround me. I'd admire to hear what hesays when he finds out I ain't behind thatswell."

The stranger splashed across the creekand raced toward some high ground in the

rear of Loudon's old position.

Now that the enemy had headedwestward there was nothing to be gainedby further delay.

Loudon had plenty of courage, but onerequires more than bravery and a six-shooter with which to pursue andsuccessfully combat a gentleman armedwith a Winchester.

Hastily retreating to his horse, Loudonscrambled into the saddle, gallopedacross the hilltop and rode down theeastern slope at a speed exceedinglyperilous to his horse's legs. But the yellowhorse somehow contrived to keep hisfooting and reached the bottom with no

damage other than skinned hocks.

Once on level ground Loudon headedsouthward, and Lemons, that yellowbundle of nerves and steel wire, stretchedout his neck and galloped with all theheart that was in him.

Loudon's destination was a line-camptwelve miles down the creek. This campwas the temporary abode of two Bar Spunchers, who were riding the countrysouth of Fishtail Coulee. Loudon knewthat both men had taken their Winchesterswith them when they left the ranch, and hehoped to find one of the rifles in thedugout.

With a rifle under his leg Loudon felt

that the odds would be even, in spite ofthe fact that the enemy had an uncannymastery of the long firearm. Loudon'sfavourite weapon was the six-shooter, andhe was at his best with it. A rifle in hishands was not the arm of precision itbecame when Johnny Ramsay squintedalong the sights. For Johnny was anexpert.

"Keep a-travellin', little hoss, keep a-travellin'," encouraged Loudon. "Split thebreeze. That's the boy!"

Loudon had more than one reason forbeing anxious to join issue with the manwho had attacked him. At nine hundredyards one cannot recognize faces orfigures, but one can distinguish the colour

of a horse, and Loudon's antagonist rode asorrel. Chuck Morgan had said thatBlakely's horse was a sorrel.

Loudon sighted the dugout that wasPack-saddle line-camp in a trifle less thanan hour. He saw with elation that twohobbled ponies were grazing near by. Afresh mount would quicken the return trip.Loudon's elation collapsed like a prickedbubble when he entered the dugout andfound neither of the rifles.

He swore a little, and smoked a sullencigarette. Then he unsaddled the wearyLemons and saddled the more vicious ofthe two hobbled ponies. Subjugating this

animal, a most excellent pitcher, workedoff a deal of Loudon's ill-temper. Even so,it was in no cheerful frame of mind that herode away to inspect the two mud-holesbetween Fishtail Coulee and Box Hill.

To be beaten is not a pleasant state ofaffairs. Not only had he been beaten, buthe had been caught by the old Indianfighter's trick of the empty hat. That waswhat galled Loudon. To be lured intobetraying his position by such an ancientsnare! And he had prided himself on beingan adroit fighting man! The fact that he hadcome within a finger's breadth of payingwith his life for his mistake did not lessonthe smart, rather it aggravated it.

Late in the afternoon he returned to the

line-camp. Hockling and Red Kane, thetwo punchers, had not yet ridden in. SoLoudon sliced bacon and set the coffee onto boil. Half an hour after sunset Hocklingand Kane galloped up and fell uponLoudon with joy. Neither relished thelabour, insignificant as it was, of cooking.

"Company," remarked Red Kane, aforkful of bacon poised in the air.

The far-away patter of hoofs swelled toa drumming crescendo. Then inside thecircle of firelight a pony slid to a halt, andthe voice of cheerful Johnny Ramsaybawled a greeting.

"That's right, Tom!" shouted theirrepressible Johnny. "Always have chuck

ready for yore uncle. He likes his mealshot. This is shore real gayful. I wasn'texpectin' to find any folks here."

"I s'pose not," said Red Kane. "You wasfigurin' on romancin' in while we wasaway an' stockin' up on our grub. I knowyou. Hock, you better cache the extrybacon an' dobies. Don't let Johnny see'em."

"Well, o' course," observed Ramsay,superciliously, "I've got the appetite ofyouth an' a feller with teeth. I don't have toget my nourishment out of soup."

"He must mean you, Hock," said RedKane, calmly. "You've done lost eight."

"The rest of 'em all hit," assertedHockling, grinning. "But what Johnnywants with teeth, I dunno. By rights he'dought to stick to milk. Meat ain't healthyfor young ones. Ain't we got a nursin'-bottle kickin' round some'ers, Red?"

"Shore, Red owns one," drawledLoudon. "I seen him buyin' one once overto Farewell at Mike Flynn's."

"O' course," said Johnny, heaping hisplate with bacon and beans. "I remembernow I seen him, too. Said he was buyin' itfor a friend. Why not admit yo're married,Red?"

"Yuh know I bought it for Mis' Shaner o'the Three Bars!" shouted the indignant

Kane. "She done asked me to get it for her.It was for her baby to drink out of."

"Yuh don't mean it," said Johnny,seriously. "For a baby, yuh say. Well now,if that ain't surprisin'. I always thoughtnursin'-bottles was to drive nails with."

In this wise the meal progressedpleasantly enough. After supper, when thefour were sprawled comfortably on theirsaddle-blankets, Loudon launched hisbombshell.

"Had a small brush this mornin',"remarked Loudon, "with a gent over by themud-hole north o' Box Hill."

The three others sat up, gaping

expectantly.

"Djuh get him?" demanded JohnnyRamsay, his blue eyes glittering in thefirelight.

Loudon shook his head. He raised hisleft arm, revealing the rent in his shirt.Then he removed his hat and stuck hisfinger through the hole in the crown.

"Souvenirs," said Loudon. "He bustedthe lever off my Winchester an' gormed upthe action."

"An' he got away?" queried Red Kane.

"The last I seen of him he was workin' inbehind where he thought I was."

"Where was you?"

"I was watchin' him from the top o' BoxHill. What did yuh think I'd be doin'?Waitin' for him to surround me an' plug mefull o' holes? I come here some hurriedafter he crossed the creek. I was hopin'you'd have left a rifle behind."

"Wish't we had," lamented Hockling."Say, you was lucky to pull out of itwithout reapin' no lead."

"I'll gamble you started the fraycas,Tommy," said Johnny Ramsay.

"Not this trip. I was lookin' at somemighty interestin' cow an' pony tracksopposite the rock ledge when this gent

cuts down on me an' misses by twoinches."

"Tracks?"

"Yep. Some sport drove five cows on tothe ledge an' chased 'em over the creek.That's how they work the trick. Theythrow the cows across where there's hardground or rocks on our side. 'Course therustlers didn't count none on us nosyin'along the opposite bank."

"Ain't they the pups!" ejaculatedHockling.

"They're wise owls," commented JohnnyRamsay. "Say, Tom, did this shootin' partylook anyways familiar?"

"The colour of his hoss was—some,"replied Loudon. "Blakely was at the ranchlast night, an' his hoss was a sorrel."

"What did I tell yuh?" exclaimed JohnnyRamsay. "What did I tell yuh? ThatBlakely tinhorn is one bad actor."

"I ain't none shore it was him. There'sherds o' sorrel cayuses."

"Shore there are, but there's only oneBlakely. Oh, it was him all right."

"Whoever it was, I'm goin' to wanderover onto the 88 range to-morrow, if Redor Hock'll lend me a Winchester."

"Take mine," said Hockling. "Red'sthrows off a little."

"She does," admitted Red Kane, "but mycartridges don't. I'll give yuh a hull box."

Followed then much profane commentrelative to the 88 ranch and the crassstupidity of Mr. Saltoun.

"I see yo're packin' a Winchester," saidLoudon to Johnny Ramsay, when Hocklingand Red had turned in.

"Hunter's trip," explained Johnny, hiseyes twinkling. "Jack Richie's got his ownideas about this rustlin', so he sent meover to scamper round the 88 range an' seewhat I could see. I guess I'll travel withyou a spell."

"Fine!" said Loudon. "Fine. I was

wishin' for company. If we're jumpedwe'd ought to be able to give 'em a rightpleasant little surprise."

Johnny Ramsay rolled a cigarette andgazed in silence at the dying fire for someminutes. Loudon, his hands clasped behindhis head, stared upward at the star-dustedheavens. But he saw neither the stars northe soft blackness. He saw Kate andBlakely, and thick-headed Mr. Saltounbending over his desk, and he waswondering how it all would end.

"Say," said Johnny Ramsay, suddenly,"this here hold-up cut down on yuh frombehind a rock, didn't he?"

"Shore did," replied Loudon.

"Which side did he fire from?"

"Why, the hind side."

"I ain't tryin' to be funny. Was it the leftside or the right side?"

"The right side," Loudon replied, after amoment's thought.

"Yore right side?"

"Yep."

"That would make it his left side. Didyuh ever stop to think, Tom, that Blakelyshoots a Colt right-handed an' aWinchester left-handed?"

Loudon swore sharply.

"Now, how did I come to forget that!" heexclaimed. "O' course he does."

"Guess Mr. Blakely's elected," saidJohnny Ramsay. "Seems likely."

Early next morning Loudon and Ramsayrode northward along the bank of thePack-saddle. They visited first the bouldera quarter of a mile below the mud-hole.Here they found empty cartridge shells,

and the marks of boot-heels.

They forded the creek at the ledge abovethe mud-hole, where the cows had beendriven across, and started westward. Theywere careful to ride the low ground atfirst, but early in the afternoon theyclimbed the rocky slope of Little BearMountain. From the top they surveyed thesurrounding country. They saw thesplendid stretches of the range speckedhere and there with dots that were cows,but they saw no riders.

They rode down the mountainside andturned into a wide draw, where pines andtamaracks grew slimly. At the head of thedraw, where it sloped abruptly upward,was a brushless wood of tall cedars, and

here, as they rode in among the trees, acalf bawled suddenly.

They rode toward the sound and cameupon a dead cow. At the cow's side stooda lonely calf. At sight of the men the calffled lumberingly. Ramsay unstrapped hisrope and gave his horse the spur. Loudondismounted and examined the dead cow.When Ramsay returned with the calf,Loudon was squatting on his heels, rollinga cigarette.

"There y'are," observed Loudon, wavinghis free hand toward the cow. "There'sevidence for yuh. Ears slit with the 88mark, an' the 88 brand over the old Bar S.Leg broke, an' a hole in her head. She ain'tbeen dead more'n a day. What do you

reckon?"

"That the 88 are damn fools. Why didn'tthey skin her?"

"Too lazy, I guess. That calf's brandedan' earmarked all complete. Never wasbranded before, neither."

"Shore. An' the brand's about two daysold. Just look at it. Raw yet."

"Same date as its ma's. They done someslick work with a wet blanket on that cow,but the Bar S is plain underneath. Give thecow a month, if she'd lived, an' yuh'dnever know but what she was born 88."

"Oh, they're slick, the pups!" exclaimedJohnny Ramsay.

"The Old Man ought to see this. WhenOld Salt throws his eyes on that brandin'I'll gamble he'll change his views some."

"You bet he will. Better start now."

"All right. Let's get a-goin'."

"One's enough. You go, Tommy. I'll stayan' caper around. I might run ontosomethin'. Yuh can't tell."

"I'd kind o' like to have yuh here when Iget back."

"Don't worry none. From what I know o'Old Salt you an' him won't be here beforeto-morrow mornin'! I'll be here then."

"All right. I'll slide instanter. So long,

Johnny."

CHAPTER IV

THE SKINNED CATTLE

"This is a devil of a time to haul a manout o' bed," complained Mr. Saltoun,stuffing the tail of his nightshirt into histrousers. "C'mon in the office," he added,grumpily.

Mr. Saltoun, while Loudon talked, nevertook his eyes from the puncher's face.

Incredulity and anger warred in hisexpression.

"What do you reckon?" the ownerinquired in a low tone, when Loudon fellsilent.

"Why, it's plain enough," said Loudon,impatiently. "The rustlers were night-drivin' them cows when one of 'em bustedher leg. So they shot her, an' the calf gotaway an' come back after the rustlers hadgone on. They must 'a' been night-drivin','cause if it had been daytime they'd 'a'rounded up the calf. Night-drivin' showsthey were in a hurry to put a heap o' rangebetween themselves an' the Bar S. Theywere headin' straight for the Fallin' Horsean' the Three Sisters."

"I see all that. I'm still askin' what doyou reckon?"

"Meanin'?"

"Who-all's doin' it?"

"I ain't changed my opinion any. If therustlers don't ride for the 88, then they'rerelated mighty close."

"You can't prove it," denied Mr. Saltoun.

"I know I can't. But it stands to reasonthat two or three rustlers workin' forthemselves wouldn't drift cows west—right across the 88 range. They'd drift 'emnorth toward Farewell, or south towardthe Fryin' Pans. Findin' that cow an' calfon the 88 range is pretty near as strong as

findin' a man ridin' off on yore hoss."

"Pretty near ain't quite."

"I ain't sayin' anythin' more."

"You've got a grudge against the 88,Tom. Just because a left-handed sport on asorrel cuts down on yuh it don't followthat Blakely is the sport. Yuh hadn't oughtto think so, Tom. Why, Blakely stayedhere the night before yuh started for Pack-saddle. He didn't leave till eight o'clock inthe mornin', an' then he headed for the 88.It ain't likely he'd slope over to the creekan' shoot you up. Why, that's plumbfoolish, Tom. Blakely's white, an' he's afriend o' mine."

Mr. Saltoun gazed distressedly atLoudon. The puncher stared straightbefore him, his expression wooden. Hehad said all that he intended to say.

"Well, Tom," continued the owner, "Idon't enjoy losin' cows any more than thenext feller. We've got to stop this rustlin'somehow. In the mornin' I'll ride overwith yuh an' have a look at that cow. TellChuck Morgan I want him to come along.Now you get some sleep, an' forget aboutthe 88. They ain't in on this deal, take myword for it."

It was a silent trio that departed in thepale light of the new day. Chuck Morganendeavoured to draw Loudon intoconversation but gave it up after the first

attempt. The heavy silence remainedunbroken till they reached the mouth of thewide draw beyond Little Bear Mountain.

"There's a hoss," said Loudon, suddenly.

A quarter of a mile away grazed asaddled pony. Loudon galloped forward.

The animal made no attempt to escape. Itstood quietly while Loudon rode up andgathered in the reins dragging between itsfeet. The full cantenas were in place. Thequirt hung on the horn. The rope had notbeen unstrapped. The slicker was tiedbehind the cantle. Under the left fender theWinchester was in its scabbard. All on thesaddle was as it should be.

"Whose hoss?" inquired Mr. Saltoun,who had followed more slowly.

"Ramsay's," replied the laconic Loudon,and started up the draw at a lope, leadingthe riderless pony.

Loudon's eyes searched the groundahead and on both sides. He instinctivelyfelt that some ill had befallen JohnnyRamsay. His intuition was not at fault.

When the three had ridden nearly to thehead of the draw, where the trees grewthickly, Loudon saw, at the base of aleaning pine, the crumpled body of JohnnyRamsay.

Loudon dropped from the saddle and ran

to his friend. Ramsay lay on his back, hisleft arm across his chest, his right armextended, fingers gripping the butt of hissix-shooter. His face and neck and leftarm were red with blood. His appearancewas sufficiently ghastly and death-like, buthis flesh was warm.

Respiration was imperceptible,however, and Loudon tore open Ramsay'sshirt and pressed his ear above the heart.It was beating, but the beat was pitifullyslow and faint.

Loudon set to work. Chuck Morgan wasdespatched to find water, and Mr. Saltounfound himself taking and obeying ordersfrom one of his own cowpunchers.

An hour later Ramsay, his woundswashed and bandaged, began to mutter,but his words were unintelligible. Within,half an hour he was raving in delirium.Chuck Morgan had departed, bound for theBar S, and Loudon and Mr. Saltoun satback on their heels and watched theirmoaning patient.

"It's a whipsaw whether he'll pullthrough or not," remarked the bromidicMr. Saltoun.

"He's got to pull through," declaredLoudon, grimly. "He ain't goin' to die.Don't think it for a minute."

"I dunno. He's got three holes in him."

"Two. Neck an' arm, an' the bone ain'ttouched. That graze on the head ain'tnothin'. It looks bad, but it only scrapedthe skin. His neck's the worst. A half inchover an' he'd 'a' bled to death. Yuh can'trub out Johnny so easy. There's a heap o'life in him."

"His heart's goin' better now," said Mr.Saltoun.

Loudon nodded, his gray eyes fixed onthe bandaged head of his friend.Conversation languished, and Mr. Saltounbegan to roll and smoke cigarettes. After atime Loudon rose.

"He'll do till the wagon comes," he said."Let's go over an' take a squint at that

cow."

Loudon led Mr. Saltoun to the spotwhere lay the dead cow. When thepuncher came in sight of the dead animalhe halted abruptly and observed that hewould be damned.

Mr. Saltoun whistled. The cow had beenthoroughly skinned. Beside the cow laythe calf, shot through the head. And fromthe little body every vestige of hide hadbeen stripped.

"I guess that settles the cat-hop," saidMr. Saltoun, and began comprehensivelyto curse all rustlers and their works.

It was not the skinning that disturbed Mr.

Saltoun. It was the sight of his defunctproperty. The fact that he was losing cowshad struck home at last. Inform a man thathe is losing property, and he may or maynot become concerned, but show him thatsame property rendered valueless, and hewill become very much concerned. Ocularproof is a wonderful galvanizer. Yet, inthe case of Mr. Saltoun, it was not quitewonderful enough.

"Oh, they're slick!" exclaimed Loudon,bitterly. "They don't forget nothin'! Nowonder Blakely's a manager!"

Mr. Saltoun ceased swearing abruptly.

"Yo're wrong, Tom," he reproved. "The88's got nothin' to do with it. I know they

ain't, an' that's enough. I'm the loser, notyou, an' I'm the one to do the howlin'. An' Idon't want to hear any more about the 88or Blakely."

Loudon turned his back on Mr. Saltounand returned to the wounded man. Thecowboy yearned to take his employer bythe collar and kick him into a reasonableframe of mind. Such blindness wasmaddening.

Mr. Saltoun heaped fuel on the fire ofLoudon's anger by remarking that therustlers undoubtedly hailed from theFrying-Pan Mountains. Loudon, writhinginternally, was on the point of relievinghis pent-up feelings when his eyeglimpsed a horseman on the high ground

above the draw. The puncher reached forhis Winchester, but he laid the rifle downwhen the rider changed direction andcame toward them.

"Block, ain't it?" inquired Mr. Saltoun.

Loudon nodded. His eyes narrowed toslits, his lips set in a straight line. Thesheriff rode up and halted, his little eyesshifting from side to side. He spoke to Mr.Saltoun, nodded to Loudon, and thenstared at the wounded man.

"Got a rustler, I see," he observed dryly,his lips crinkled in a sneering smile.

"Yuh see wrong—as usual," saidLoudon. "Some friend o' yores shot

Johnny."

"Friend o' mine? Who?" queried thesheriff, his manner one of mild interest.

"Wish I knew. Thought yuh might be ableto tell me. Ain't that what yuh come herefor?"

"Ramsay's shot—that's all we know,"interposed Mr. Saltoun, hastily. "An'there's a cow an' calf o' mine over yonder.Skinned, both of 'em."

"An' the cow had been branded through awet blanket," said Loudon, not to befobbed off. "The Bar S was underneath an'the 88 was on top. Johnny an' me found thedead cow an' the live calf yesterday. I left

Johnny here an' rode in to the Bar S. Whenwe got here we found Johnny shot an' thecow an' calf skinned. What do you guess?"

"I don't guess nothin'," replied thesheriff. "But it shore looks as if rustlershad been mighty busy."

"Don't it?" said Loudon with hugesarcasm. "I guess, now——"

"Say, look here, Sheriff," interrupted Mr.Saltoun, anxious to preserve peace, "I ain'tmakin' no charges against anybody. Butthis rustlin' has got to stop. I can't afford tolose any more cows. Do somethin'. Yo'resheriff."

"Do somethin'!" exclaimed the Sheriff.

"Well, I like that! What can I do? I can't bein forty places at once. Yuh talk like Iknowed just where the rustlers hang out."

"Yuh probably do," said Loudon, eyeswatchful, his right hand ready.

"Keep out of this, Tom," ordered Mr.Saltoun, turning on Loudon with sharpauthority. "I'll say what's to be said."

"Show me the rustlers," said the sheriff,electing to disregard Loudon's outburst."Show me the rustlers, an' I'll do the rest."

At which remark the seething Loudoncould control himself no longer.

"You'll do the rest!" he rapped out in aharsh and grating voice. "I guess yuh will!

If yuh was worth a —— yuh'd get 'emwithout bein' shown! How much do theypay yuh for leavin' 'em alone?"

The sheriff did not remove his handsfrom the saddle-horn. For Loudon hadjerked out his six-shooter, and the longbarrel was in line with the third button ofthe officer's shirt.

"Yuh got the drop," grunted the sheriff,his little eyes venomous, "an' I ain't goin'up agin a sure thing."

"You can gamble yuh ain't. I'd shoreadmire to blow yuh apart. You git, an' gitnow."

The sheriff hesitated. Loudon's finger

dragged on the trigger. Slowly the sheriffpicked up his reins, wheeled his horse,and loped away.

"What did yuh do that for?" demandedMr. Saltoun, disturbed and angry.

Loudon, his eye-corners puckered,stared at the owner of the Bar S. Thecowboy's gaze was curious, speculative,and it greatly lacked respect. Instead ofreplying to Mr. Saltoun's question, Loudonsheathed his six-shooter, squatted downon his heels and began to roll a cigarette.

"I asked yuh what yuh did that for?"reiterated blundering Mr. Saltoun.

Again Loudon favoured his employer

with that curious and speculative stare.

"I'll tell yuh," Loudon said, gently. "Italked to Block because it's about timesomeone did. He's in with the rustlers—Blakely an' that bunch. If you wasn'tblinder'n a flock of bats you'd see it, too."

"You can't talk to me this way!" cried thefurious Mr. Saltoun.

"I'm doin' it," observed Loudon,placidly.

"Yo're fired!"

"Not by a jugful I ain't. I quit ten minutesago."

"You——" began Mr. Saltoun.

"Don't," advised Loudon, his lips partingin a mirthless smile.

Mr. Saltoun didn't. He withdrew to alittle distance and sat down. After a timehe took out his pocket-knife and began toplay mumblety-peg. Mr. Saltoun'semotions had been violently churned. Herequired time to readjust himself. But withhis customary stubbornness he held to thebelief that Blakely and the 88 wereinnocent of evil-doing.

Until Chuck Morgan and the wagonarrived early in the morning, Loudon andhis former employer did not exchange aword.

CHAPTER V

THEIR OWN DECEIVINGS

Johnny Ramsay was put to bed in the BarS ranch house. Kate Saltoun promptlyinstalled herself as nurse. Loudon, paidoff by the now regretful Mr. Saltoun, tooksix hours' sleep and then rode away onRanger to notify the Cross-in-a-box ofRamsay's wounding.

An angry man was Richie, manager ofthe Cross-in-a-box, when he heard whatLoudon had to say.

The following day Loudon and Richierode to the Bar S. On Loudon's mentioningthat he was riding no longer for the Bar S,Richie immediately hired him. He knew agood man, did Jack Richie of the Cross-in-a-box.

When they arrived at the Bar S theyfound Johnny Ramsay conscious, but veryweak. His weakness was not surprising.He had lost a great deal of blood. Hegrinned wanly at Loudon and Richie.

"You mustn't stay long," announced MissSaltoun, firmly, smoothing the bed-covering.

"We won't, ma'am," said Richie. "Whoshot yuh, Johnny?"

"I dunno," replied the patient. "I was justa-climbin' aboard my hoss when I heard ashot behind me an' I felt a pain in my neck.I pulled my six-shooter an' whirled, an' Igot in one shot at a gent on a hoss. Hefired before I did, an' it seems to me therewas another shot off to the left. Anyway,the lead got me on the side of the head an'that's all I know."

"Who was the gent on the hoss?" Loudonasked.

"I dunno, Tom. I hadn't more'n whirledwhen he fired, an' the smoke hid his face.It all come so quick. I fired blind. Yuh seethe chunk in my neck kind o' dizzied me,an' that rap on the head comin' on top of it,why, I wouldn't 'a' knowed my own

brother ten feet away. I'm all right now. Ina couple o' weeks I'll be ridin' the rangeagain."

"Shore yuh will," said Loudon. "An' thesooner the quicker. You've got a goodnurse."

"I shore have," smiled Johnny, gazingwith adoring eyes at Kate Saltoun.

"That will be about all," remarked MissSaltoun. "He's talked enough for one day.Get out now, the both of you, and don't fallover anything and make a noise. I'm notgoing to have my patient disturbed."

Loudon went down to the bunkhouse forhis dinner. After the meal, while waiting

for Richie, who was lingering with Mr.Saltoun, he strove to obtain a word withKate. But she informed him that she couldnot leave her patient.

"See you later," said Miss Saltoun. "Youmustn't bother me now."

And she shooed him out and closed thedoor. Loudon returned to the bunkhouseand sat down on the bench near thekitchen. Soon Jimmy appeared with a panof potatoes and waxed loquacious as washis habit.

"Who plugged Johnny? That's what I'dlike to know," wondered Jimmy. "Here!leave them Hogans be! They're to eat, notto jerk at the windmill. I never seen such a

kid as you. Yo're worse than ChuckMorgan, an' he's just a natural-born fool.Oh, all right. I ain't a-goin' to talk to yuh ifyuh can't act decent."

Jimmy picked up his pan of potatoes andwithdrew with dignity. The grin fadedfrom Loudon's mouth, and he gazedworriedly at the ground between his feet.

What would Kate say to him? Would shebe willing to wait? She had certainlyencouraged him, but—— Premonitory andunpleasant shivers crawled up and downLoudon's spinal column. Proposing was astrange and novel business with him. Hehad never done such a thing before. Hefelt as one feels who is about to step forthinto the unknown. For he was earnestly

and honestly very much in love. It is onlyyour philanderer who enters upon aproposal with cold judgment and a calmheart.

Half an hour later Loudon saw Kate atthe kitchen window. He was up in aninstant and hurrying toward the kitchendoor. Kate was busy at the stove when heentered. Over her shoulder she flung him acharming smile, stirred the contents of asaucepan a moment longer, then clicked onthe cover and faced him.

"Kate," said Loudon, "I'm quittin' the BarS."

"Quitting? Oh, why?" Miss Saltoun'stone was sweetly regretful.

"Lot o' reasons. I'm ridin' for the Cross-in-a-box now."

He took a step forward and seized herhand. It lay in his, limp, unresponsive. Ofwhich lack of sympathetic warmth he wastoo absorbed to be conscious.

"Kate," he pursued, "I ain't got nothin'now but my forty a month. But I shore loveyuh a lot. Will yuh wait for me till I makeenough for the two of us? Look at me,Kate. I won't always be a punch. I'll makemoney, an' if I know yo're a-waitin' forme, I'll make it all the faster."

According to recognized precedent Kateshould have fallen into his arms. But shedid nothing of the kind. She disengaged

her fingers and drew back a step,ingenuous surprise written large on hercountenance. Pure art, of course, and shedid it remarkably well.

"Why, Tom," she breathed, "I wasn'texpecting this. I didn't dream, I——"

"That's all right," Loudon broke in. "I'mtellin' yuh I love yuh, honey. Will yuh waitfor me? Yuh don't have to say yuh loveme. I'll take a chance on yore lovin' melater. Just say yuh'll wait, will yuh,honey?"

"Oh, Tom, I can't!"

"Yuh can't! Why not? Don't loveanybody else, do yuh?"

"Oh, I can't, Tom," evaded Kate. "I don'tthink I could ever love you. I like you—oh, a great deal. You're a dear boy,Tommy, but—you can't make yourselflove any one."

"Yuh won't have to make yoreself. I'llmake yuh love me. Just give me a chance,honey. That's all I want. I'd be good toyuh, Kate, an' I'd spend my time tryin' tomake yuh happy. We'd get along. I knowwe would. Say yes. Give me a chance."

Kate returned to the table and leanedagainst it, arms at her sides, her handsgripping the table-edge. It was a posecalculated to display her figure toadvantage. She had practised it frequently.Kate Saltoun was running true to form.

"Tom," she said, her voice low andappealing, "Tom, I never had any idea youloved me. And I'm awfully sorry I can'tlove you. Truly, I am. But we can befriends, can't we?"

"Friends! Friends!" The words were likea curse.

"Why not?"

Loudon, head lowered, looked at herunder his eyebrows.

"Then it all didn't mean nothin'?" Hespoke with an effort.

"All? All what? What do you mean?"

"Yuh know what I mean. You've been

awful nice to me. Yuh always acted likeyuh enjoyed havin' me around. An' Ithought yuh liked me—a little. An' it didn'tmean nothin' 'cept we can be friends.Friends!"

Again the word sounded like a curse.Loudon turned his head and staredunseeingly out of the window. He raisedhis hand and pushed his hair back from hisforehead. A great misery was in his heart.Kate, for once in her life swayed byhonest impulse, stepped forward and laida hand on his arm.

"Don't take it so hard, Tom," she begged.

Loudon's eyes slid around and gazeddown into her face. Kate was a

remarkably handsome girl, but she hadnever appeared so alluring as she did atthat moment.

Loudon stared at the vivid dark eyes, theparted lips, and the tilted chin. Her warmbreath fanned his neck. The moment wastense, fraught with possibilities, and—Kate smiled. Even a bloodless cucumberwould have been provoked. And Loudonwas far from being a cucumber.

His long arms swept out and about herbody, and he crushed her gasping againsthis chest. Once, twice, three times hekissed her mouth, then, his grasp relaxing,she wrenched herself free and staggeredback against the table. Panting, handsclenched at her throat, she faced him.

Loudon stood swaying, his great frametrembling.

"Kate! Oh, Kate!" he cried, and stretchedout his arms.

But Kate groped her dazed way aroundthe table. Physically and mentally, she hadbeen severely shocked. To meet a tornadowhere one had expected a summer breezeis rather shattering to one's poise. Quiteso. Kate suffered. Then, out of the chaosof her emotions, erupted wild anger.

"You! You!" she hissed. "How dare youkiss me! Ugh-h! I could kill you!"

She drew the back of her hand acrossher mouth and snapped her hand

downward with precisely the same snapand jerk that a Mexican bartender employswhen he flips the pulque from his fingers.

"Do you know I'm engaged to SamBlakely? What do you think he'll do whenhe finds this out? Do you understand? I'mgoing to marry Sam Blakely!"

This facer cooled Loudon as nothingelse could have done. Outwardly, at least,he became calm.

"I didn't understand, but I do now," hesaid, stooping to recover his hat. "If you'dtold me that in the first place it wouldhave saved trouble."

"You'd have been afraid to kiss me

then!" she taunted.

"Not afraid," he corrected, gently. "Iwouldn't 'a' wanted to. I ain't kissin'another man's girl."

"No, I guess not! The nerve of you!Think I'd marry an ignorant puncher!"

"Yuh shore ain't goin' to marry this one,but yuh are goin' to marry a cow thief!"

"A—a what?"

"A cow thief, a rustler, a sport who ain'tparticular whose cows he brands."

"You lie!"

"Yuh'll find out in time I'm tellin' the

truth. I guess now I know more about SamBlakely than you do, an' I tell yuh he's arustler."

"Kate! Oh, Kate!" called a voiceoutside.

Kate sped through the doorway. Loudon,his lips set in a straight line, followed herquickly. There, not five yards from thekitchen door, Sam Blakely sat his horse.The eyes of the 88 manager went fromKate to Loudon and back to Kate.

"What's the excitement?" inquiredBlakely, easily.

Kate levelled her forefinger at Loudon.

"He says," she gulped, "he says you're a

rustler."

Blakely's hand swept downward. Hissix-shooter had barely cleared the edge ofthe holster when Loudon's gun flashedfrom the hip, and Blakely's weapon spunthrough the air and fell ten feet distant.

With a grunt of pain, Blakely, using hisleft hand, whipped a derringer from underhis vest.

Again Loudon fired.

Blakely reeled, the derringer spatharmlessly upward, and then Blakely, ashis frightened horse reared and plunged,pitched backward out of the saddle anddropped heavily to the ground.

Immediately the horse ran away.

Kate, with a sharp cry, flung herself atthe prostrate Blakely.

"You've killed him!" she wailed. "Sam—Sam—speak to me!"

But Sam was past speech. He had struckhead first and was consequently senseless.

Come running then Jimmy from thebunkhouse, Chuck Morgan from thecorrals, Mr. Saltoun and Richie from theoffice.

"He's dead! He's dead!" was the burdenof Kate's shrill cries.

"Let's see if he is," said the practical

Richie, dropping on his knees at Blakely'sside. "He didn't tumble like a dead man.Just a shake, ma'am, while I look at him. Ican't see nothin' with you a-layin' all overhim this-a-way. Yo're gettin' all overblood, too. There, now! She's donefainted. That's right, Salt. You take care ofher."

The capable Richie made a rapidexamination. He looked up, hands onknees, his white teeth gleaming under hisbrown moustache.

"He's all right," he said, cheerfully."Heart's a-tickin' like a alarm-clock. Holein his shoulder. Missed the bones. Bulletwent right on through."

At this juncture Kate recoveredconsciousness and struggled upright in herfather's arms.

"He shot first!" she cried, pointing atLoudon. "He didn't give him a chance!"

"You'll excuse me, ma'am," said Richie,his tone good-humoured, but his eyesnarrowing ever so slightly. "You'll excuseme for contradictin' yuh, but I happened tobe lookin' through the office window an' Iseen the whole thing. Sam went after hisgun before Tom made a move."

Blakely moved feebly, groaned, andopened his eyes. His gaze fell on Loudon,and his eyes turned venomous.

"You got me," he gritted, his lips drawnback, "but I'll get you when Marvin andRudd ride in. They've got the proof with'em, you rustler!"

After which cryptic utterance Blakelyclosed his mouth tightly and contentedhimself with glaring. Richie theunconcerned rose to his feet and dustedhis knees.

"Take his legs, Chuck," directed Richie."Gimme a hand, will yuh, Jimmy? Easynow. That's it. Where'll we put him, Salt?"

Mr. Saltoun and his now sobbingdaughter followed them into the ranchhouse. Loudon remained where he was.When the others had disappeared Loudon

clicked out the cylinder of his six-shooter,ejected the two spent shells and slipped infresh cartridges.

"When Marvin an' Rudd ride in," hewondered. "Got the proof with 'em too,huh. It looks as if Blakely was goin' to alot o' trouble on my account."

Loudon walked swiftly behind thebunkhouse and passed on to the corrals.From the top of the corral fence heintended watching for the coming ofMarvin and Rudd. In this business he wassomewhat delayed by the discovery ofBlakely's horse whickering at the gate ofthe corral.

"I ain't got nothin' against you," said

Loudon, "but yuh shore have queer taste inowners."

Forthwith he stripped off saddle andbridle and turned the animal into thecorral. As he closed the gate his glancefell on the dropped saddle. The coiledrope had fallen away from the horn, andthere was revealed in the swell-fork aneat round hole. He squatted down moreclosely at the neat hole.

"That happened lately," he said,fingering the edges of the hole. "I thoughtso," he added, as an inserted little fingerencountered a smooth, slightly concavesurface.

He took out his knife and dug

industriously. After three minutes' work asomewhat mushroomed forty-five-calibrebullet lay in the palm of his hand.

"O' course Johnny Ramsay ain't the onlysport packin' a forty-five," he said, softly."But Johnny did mention firin' one shot ata party on a hoss. It's possible he hit theswell-fork. Yep, it's a heap possible."

Then Loudon dropped the bullet into apocket of his chaps and climbed to the topof the corral fence.

A mile distant, on the slope of a swell,two men were riding toward the ranchhouse. The horsemen were driving before

them a cow and a calf. Loudon climbeddown and took position behind the mulecorral. From this vantage-point he couldobserve unseen all that might develop.

The riders, Marvin, the 88 range boss,and Rudd, a puncher, passed within fortyfeet of the mule corral. The cow and thecalf walked heavily, as if they had beendriven a long distance, and Loudonperceived that they had been newlybranded 8x8. The brand was not one thathe recognized.

"Crossed Dumbbell or Eight timesEight." he grinned. "Take yore choice. Iwonder if that brand's the proof Blakelywas talkin' about. Marvin an' Rudd shoredo look serious."

He cautiously edged round the corraland halted behind the corner of thebunkhouse. Marvin and Rudd wereholding the cow and calf near the ranchhouse door. The two men lounged in theirsaddles. Marvin rolled a cigarette. Thenin the doorway appeared Mr. Saltoun.

"Howdy, Mr. Saltoun," said Marvin."Sam got in yet?"

"He's in there," replied Mr. Saltoun,jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "He'sshot."

"Who done it?"

"Tom Loudon,"

"Where is he?"

"Throw up yore hands!" rapped out thegentleman in question.

Loudon had approached unobserved andwas standing some twenty feet in the rearof Marvin and Rudd. At Loudon's sharpcommand Rudd's hands shot skywardinstantly.

"I'm waitin'," cautioned Loudon.

Marvin's fingers slowly uncoiled fromthe butt of his six-shooter and dragginglyhe followed his comrade's example.

"Now we can all be happy," remarkedLoudon, nodding amiably to the perturbedMr. Saltoun. "I won't shoot unless theyshove me. They can talk just as

comfortable with their hands up, an' it'llbe a lot safer all round. Was the state o'Sam's health all yuh wanted to know,Marvin? No, don't either of yuh turn'round. Just keep yore eyes clamped on thewindmill. About Sam, now, Marvin.Richie says he'll pull through. Anythin'else?"

"You bet there is!" exploded the furiousrange-boss. "You —— rustler, youbranded a cow an' a calf o' ours yest'day!"

"Shore," agreed Loudon, politely, "an' Iheld up the Farewell stage, stole thirty-eight horses, an' robbed the Marysvillebank the day before. Yuh don't want toforget all them little details, Marvin. It's ashore sign yo're gettin' aged when yuh do.

Well, well, a cow an' a calf yuh say. Onlythe two, huh? It don't look naturalsomehow. I never brand less'n twenty-fourat a clip."

Over the shoulders of the agitated Mr.Saltoun peered the faces of avidlyinterested Richie, Chuck Morgan, andJimmy the cook. None of these threeallowed a sign of his true feeling toappear on his face.

The two 88 men were red with shameand anger. Their lips moved with wickedwords. Arms stretched heavenward, theirgaze religiously fixed on the windmill,they presented a ridiculous appearance,and they knew it. Loudon, the dominantfigure in the scene, spread his legs and

smiled sardonically.

"Go on, Marvin," he said, after amoment, "yo're cussin' a lot, but yuh ain'tsayin' nothin'. Let's hear the rest o' thatinterestin' story o' the 88 cow an' her littledaughter."

"You branded the both of 'em,"stubbornly reiterated Marvin. "We seenyuh—Sam, Rudd here, an' me, we seenyuh."

"Yuh seen me!" exclaimed Loudon. "Yuhseen me! You was close enough to see me,an' yuh didn't try to stop me! Well, youshore are the poorest liar in the territory."

"If I had my hands down yuh wouldn't

call me that!"

"If yuh had yore hands down yuh'd bedead. I'm tryin' to save yore life. C'mon,speak the rest o' yore little piece. Yuh gotas far as the brandin'. When did it allhappen?"

"Gents," said Marvin, "this sport is arustler. There ain't no two ways about it.Day before yest'day, just before sundown,over near the Sink, the three of us seenLoudon workin' round a hog-tied cow an'calf. We was three, maybe four milesaway. We seen him through field glasses.We hit the ground for the Sink, but whenwe got there all we found was the cow an'calf, branded as yuh see 'em now. Loudonhad sloped."

"Near the Sink," observed Loudon. "Inthe middle of it?"

"I've quit talkin'," replied Marvin.

Richie stepped past Mr. Saltoun andstood in front of Marvin and Rudd.

"You've done made a right seriouscharge agin one o' my men," remarkedRichie, addressing Marvin. "If he didbrand them cattle, he'll be stretched. But itain't all clear to me yet. This here CrossedDumbbell brand now—see it on any othercattle besides these two, Marvin?"

"No," said Marvin, shaking his head.

"Well," continued Richie, "why didn'tyuh come here right off instead o' waitin'

two days?"

"We was busy."

"Didn't go back to the 88 ranch housebefore comin' here, did yuh?"

"No."

"Or stop at any o' yore line-camps?"

"No, we didn't. We come here soon aswe could make it."

"What part o' the Sink was Loudonworkin' in?"

"The north side."

"Near the edge, o' course?"

"No, he was nearer the middle."

"Nearer the middle, was he? An' yuhseen him at a distance o' three or fourmiles. Yuh must have good eyesight,because if you seen Loudon workin' in themiddle o' the Sink an' you was standin'where yuh say yuh was, yuh lookedthrough about two miles an' a half o' solidearth. The middle o' the Sink is twohundred feet below the level o' thesurrounding country, an' there ain't no highland anywhere near it. Unless yo'restandin' right on the edge yuh can't seenothin' in the bottom, an' the Sink is onlyabout a mile from rim to rim. I guess nowyo're mistaken, Marvin."

"I ain't none shore he was plumb in the

middle," grudgingly admitted Marvin."Maybe he was kind o' near the north rim.But what's the difference?" he added,brazenly. "We seen him."

"Where are the field glasses?" astutelyquestioned Richie.

"Left 'em at our Lazy River line-camp,"promptly replied Marvin.

"Now ain't that funny, Marvin. Yuh toldme not three minutes ago yuh didn't stop atany o' yore line-camps."

"I mean we—I gave 'em to ShortySimms. He's at the Lazy River line-camp,an' he took 'em there."

"Why did yuh give 'em to Shorty?"

persisted Richie.

"Look here, Richie!" blazed Marvin,"this ain't no court, an' I don't have toanswer yore questions."

"Yuh'll have to answer plenty ofquestions," retorted Richie, "before I'llsee Loudon stretched."

"I tell yuh he's a rustler!" shouted themulish Marvin. "He's startin' a herd o' hisown, an' he's usin' the Dumbbell brand.We seen him brandin' that stock! That'senough for you or any one else to know,an' I tell yuh flat the 88 is out to stretchTom Loudon the first chance it gets!"

"Well, o' course, you know best," said

Richie, "but I wouldn't do nothin' rash,Marvin. I just wouldn't go off at half-cockif I was you."

"No," chipped in Loudon, briskly. "Iwouldn't set my heart on it, Marvin, oldhoss. I ain't countin' none on dyin' yetawhile. I've got a heap o' little matters toattend to before I cash, an' yuh can seehow hangin' me would disarrange all myplans. Take yore decorated cow an' calfnow an' pull yore freight, an' don't lookback."

When Marvin and Rudd were goneRichie hooked his thumb in his belt andlooked with twinkling eyes at Loudon andthe men in the doorway.

"I guess that settles the cat-hop," saidJack Richie.

CHAPTER VI

PESTILENT FELLOWS

Before his departure Loudon visitedBlakely.

"Found a bullet-hole in yore saddle,"said Loudon without preliminary. "Kind o'looks as if Johnny come near bustin' yoremainspring. I ain't told Johnny—yet.

Johnny bein' an impulsive sport he mightventilate yuh plenty first time he met yuh.Johnny's square. He ain't shootin' anybodyunless he's pretty near certain the otherparty is a-layin' for him, an' that bullet Idug out o' yore swell-fork shore makes itlook bad for yuh.

"Yuh needn't look so sour. I got goodnews for yuh. Yo're goin' to marry Kate.Well an' good. I wouldn't enjoy downin'her husband unless I'm crowded. I could'a' killed yuh a while back, an' I shot wideon purpose. Next time—but don't let therebe any next time. Just you keep away fromme an' Johnny. I'm leavin' the Lazy Rivercountry anyway, but I tell yuh, SamBlakely, if Johnny Ramsay isbushwhacked by the 88 I'll come back an'

get yuh first card out o' the box. Kate'shusband or not yuh'll go shoutin' home.Understand?"

"So yo're leavin' this country," bristledBlakely. "Yuh'd better. I'll shoot yuh onsight!"

"Shore yuh feel that way about it?"queried Loudon with suspiciousgentleness.

"I say what I mean as a rule. I'll shootyuh on sight you —— rustler."

"All right. Because o' Kate I was willin'to keep paws off, but if yo're a-honin' toplay the hand out, I'll give yuh everychance. You've got to get well complete

first. Take three months. That ought to betime enough. Three months from to-day I'llride in to Farewell. If yo're still feelin'fighty be in town when I hit it."

"I'll be there," Blakely assured him.

When Loudon had bidden JohnnyRamsay good-bye, he went out andmounted Ranger and rode away with JackRichie.

"I'm goin' away from here, Jack," saidLoudon, after Richie had discussed inprofane detail the 88's endeavour todiscredit him.

"I thought yuh was goin' to work forme?" exclaimed Richie in surprise.

"I was, but somethin's happened sincethen. I'm kind o' sick o' the Lazy Rivercountry. I need a change."

"Well, you know best. But——"

"I know what yo're thinkin'. If I go nowthe 88 will think I've quit cold. Let 'emthink it. I don't care. But I'll be back. Imade an appointment with Blakely to meethim in Farewell three months from to-day."

"That's good hearin'. But I'm shore sorryyou ain't goin' to ride for me."

"So'm I."

"Stay over to-night anyway. Yuh ain't inany howlin' rush to get away, are yuh?"

"No, I ain't so hurried. I dunno where I'llhead—north, maybe."

"If yo're goin' north, why don't yuh tryScotty Mackenzie? He owns the Flyin' Mhorse ranch over beyond Paradise Bend.There's three or four good cow ranchesnear the Bend—the Seven Lazy Seven, theWagon-wheel, the Two Bar, an' the T VU."

"Maybe I will hit the Bend."

"If yuh do," pursued Richie, "yuh mightstop an' say howdy at Cap'n Burr's. Hemarried my sister, Burr did, an' all yuh gotto do is say yuh know me, an' they'll giveyuh the house. I guess, though, yuh knowCap'n Burr yoreself."

"Shore I do. It was the Cap'n who put meon to buyin' Ranger here. He kept tellin'me about this amazin' good cayuse over atthe 88, an' finally I went over, liked hislooks, an' bought him. The Cap'n was atthe 88 the day I took the hoss away. He'djust freighted in a bunch o' stuff Blakely'dordered. Cap'n Burr does a powerful lot o'business."

"Don't he now. Yuh wouldn't think tin-peddlin' would pay so well. Oh, him an'his little old team o' blues shore glom ontothe coin."

When Loudon rode into Farewell on thefollowing day he saw half-a-dozen 88

cow-ponies hitched to the rail in front ofthe Palace Saloon.

"Now that's cheerful," said Loudon. "Fora peaceable feller I shore do tie in withtrouble a heap."

He turned aside at the hotel and tappedthe landlord awake. At sight of LoudonBill Lainey's eyes opened to their fullestextent and his red face turned purple withexcitement.

"Say," huskily whispered Lainey,"Shorty Simms, Rudd, Dakota Riley, an'three more o' the 88 boys are in town.They're tankin' up down in the Palace.Rudd's yowlin' round how he's goin' todrill yuh. He's a heap peevish, Rudd is. I

guess now yuh must 'a' riled himsomehow, Tom."

"I guess maybe I did, Bill. I'll take alittle walk down to the Palace after I eat.Thanks for the warnin'. Feed the littlehoss, will yuh, Bill?"

"Shore. Go on in an' holler for Lize."

While Loudon was eating, a wiry, brisklittle man with a white beard entered thedining room.

"How are yuh, Cap'n?" grinned Loudon.

Captain Burr, surprise andembarrassment in his steel-blue eyes,advanced and gripped Loudon's hand.

"Loudon! By ——, suh!" he exclaimed."This is indeed a pleasuh!"

The tin-peddler slid into a chair andcleared his throat several times.

"I feah, suh," he said, shamefacedly,"that I have trespassed on youah prese'ves.Had I known that you were in town Iwould have stayed my hand."

"Why? What?" queried Loudon.

"Well, suh, I'll tell you the whole story.It's sho't. Twenty minutes ago I ente'ed thePalace Saloon. While drinking at the bah Icould not help but overheah theconve'sation of half-a-dozen 88 cowboys.One of them, a man named Rudd,

mentioned youah name and called you arustlah.

"You, Tom, are my friend, and, since Iwas unaware that you were in town, I feltthat I could not stand idly by. I info'medthis Rudd person that traducing the absentwas not the act of a gentleman. I alsocalled him a —— scoundrel and a liah toboot. He took exception to my wo'ds and,I was fo'ced to shoot him.

"You unde'stand, Tom, that I acted incomplete good faith. I believed you to beat the Bah S. Otherwise, I should haverepo'ted the mattah to you. Of co'se, Iwould have stood at youah back while youshot the rascal. His ruffianly friends ah notto be trusted."

"Don't apologize, Cap'n," said Loudon,and he reached across the table and shookhands again.

Captain Burr appeared to be greatlycomforted at Loudon's ready acceptanceof his explanation, and he attacked hisbeef and beans with appetite.

The captain was a good deal of amystery to the folk with whom he came incontact. His mode of speech and his tablemanners were not those of ordinary men.But he was a man, with all that the nameimplies, and as such they had learned toaccept him. I employ "learned" advisedly.Certain unthinking individuals had, whenthe captain was a comparative stranger inthat region, commented upon his traits and

received a prompt and thoroughchastening.

Captain Burr gained thereby an enviablereputation. In reality there was no mysteryattached to the old tin-peddler. He hadsimply been born a gentleman.

"Did Rudd die?" inquired Loudon in atone of studied casualness, when he hadfinished his meal.

"He did not," replied the Captain."Unless blood-poisoning sets in he willlive to be hung. My bullet broke his ahm.He rode away with his comrades fiveminutes lateh. No doubt he was in somepain, but the rogue was suffering muchless than he dese'ved. I realize that I

should have killed him, of co'se, but as Igrow oldeh I find myself becoming soft-heahted. Time was—but one must notdwell in the past. These beans ahexcellent, Tom."

"They are. Pullin' out soon?"

"At once. I'm bound no'th. I intend tovisit all the ranches between heah andParadise Bend. I hope to be home in twoweeks. Ah you travelling my way?"

"Yep. I guess I'm bound for the Bend,too."

"Then I will ask you to deliveh a lettehto my wife. I missed the Bend stage bytwo houahs to-day, and theah is no otheh

fo' three days."

Loudon took the letter and placed itcarefully in the inside pocket of his vest.

While Captain Burr was harnessing histeam, a job in which the tin-peddleralways refused assistance, Loudon rodedown the street with the intention ofbuying tobacco at the Blue Pigeon Store.In front of the Happy Heart Saloon,opposite the Palace Dance Hall, stoodSheriff Block and five citizens.

As Loudon rode past the sheriff made alow-voiced remark and laughed loudly.Instantly the five citizens burst intocackles. For Block, besides being sheriff,owned both the Palace and the Happy

Heart. Hence most of Farewell'sinhabitants took their cue from him.

The cachination in front of the HappyHeart grated on Loudon's feelings as wellas his ear-drums. He knew that the sheriff,kindly soul, was holding him up toridicule. Kate's refusal of him had madeLoudon somewhat reckless. He hadintended having it out with Rudd, butCaptain Burr had forestalled him there.Here, however, was the sheriff of thecounty, another enemy. Loudon turned hishorse.

Promptly the five friends oozed invarious directions. Sheriff Block, a lonelyfigure, held his ground.

"I hear yo're lookin' for me," announcedLoudon, a laughing devil in his gray eyes.

"Who told yuh?" queried the sheriff,puzzled. He had expected somethingtotally different.

"Who told me? Oh, several little birds.So I want to find out about it. I wouldn'tlike to put yuh to any trouble—such ashuntin' me up, for instance."

"That's good o' yuh. But I ain't lookin' foryuh, not yet."

"I'm right glad to hear that. Them littlebirds must 'a' lied. Powerful lot o' lyin'goin' on in the world, ain't there?"

"I dunno nothin' about it," mumbled the

sheriff, who was becoming more and morepuzzled at the apparently aimless words ofthe puncher.

"Don't yuh?" grinned Loudon. "That'sshore hard to believe."

The sheriff warily refused to takeoffence, and mumbled unintelligibly.

"Forget that afternoon in the draw westo' Little Bear Mountain?" relentlesslypursued Loudon. "We had some words—remember? Yuh said somethin' about mehavin' the drop. I ain't got the drop now.My hands are on the horn. Yore's arehooked in yore belt. But I'll lay yuh two toone I bust yuh plumb centre before yuh canpull. Take me up?"

Loudon's lips were smiling, but his eyesstared with a disconcerting gray chillinessinto the small black eyes of Sheriff Block.The officer's eyelids wavered, winked,and Block shifted his gaze to Loudon'schin.

"I ain't startin' no gun-play for nothin',"said Block with finality.

Loudon held up a ten-dollar gold piece.

"Two to one," he urged.

But the sheriff perceived that the handholding the gold piece was Loudon's lefthand, and he could not quite screw hiscourage to the sticking-point. Block wasordinarily brave enough, but he was bad,

and as a rule there is at least oneindividual whom the bad man fears. AndBlock feared Loudon.

The sheriff's mean and vicious spiritwrithed within him. He hated Loudon,hated him for his cocksureness, for hiseasy fearlessness. He would have sold hissoul to the devil in return for the ability toreach for his gun. The sheriff licked hislips.

Loudon, still smiling, continued to holdaloft the gold piece. The onlookers—halfof Farewell by this time—awaited theoutcome in tense silence.

Suddenly the sheriff shook his shoulders,spat on the sidewalk, wheeled, and

entered the Happy Heart.

Loudon flipped the gold piece into theair, caught it, and returned it to his vest-pocket. Without a glance at the keenlydisappointed populace, he turned Rangerand loped to the Blue Pigeon Store.

When he emerged, followed by thebawled "Good lucks!" of the proprietor,Captain Burr was waiting. The tin-peddler's face was grave but his steel-blue eyes were twinkling with suppressedmerriment.

"Well, suh——" chuckled the captain,when they were out of earshot of theFarewell citizens—"well, suh, youce'tainly talked to that sheriff. Lord, Tom,

it made me laugh. I didn't know that Blockwas so lacking in honah and spo'tingspirit. I fully expected to witness quite aruction."

"I wasn't lookin' for a fight," disclaimedLoudon. "I knowed Block wouldn't pull. Itwas safe as takin' pie from a baby."

"I'm not so shuah," doubted CaptainBurr. "Any reptile is mighty unce'tain. Andthis reptile had friends. I was watchingthem. My Spenceh seven-shooteh wasready fo' action. You Rob'et E. Lee hoss,pick up youah feet! Well, I'm glad it endedpeacefully. My wife and daughteh, as Imay have mentioned, do not approve offighting. They cannot realize hownecessa'y it becomes at times. It would be

well, I think, when you reach the Bend, torefrain from mentioning my littledisagreement with Rudd. My family mightheah of it, and—but you unde'stand, don'tyou, Tom?"

"'Course, I do, Cap'n," heartilyconcurred Loudon. "I won't say a word."

"Thank you."

Captain Burr fell silent. Suddenly hebegan to laugh.

"Po' Farewell," he chuckled. "Theahwill be some powdeh bu'nt befo' the dayis out."

"How?"

"Block. His pride has had a fall. Quite afew saw the tumble. An o'dina'y manwould tuck his tail between his legs andgo elsewheah. But the sheriff is not ano'dina'y man. He's too mean. In order toreinstate himself in the affections of thetownspeople he will feel compelled toshoot one of them. Mahk my wo'ds, theahwill be trouble in the smoke fo' Farewell."

"It can stand it. Outside o' Mike Flynn,an' Bill Lainey an' his wife, there ain't adecent two-legged party in the wholeplace."

Captain Burr nodded and turned anappreciative eye on Ranger.

"That chestnut hoss ce'tainly does please

me," he said. "I wish I'd bought himmyself. I do indeed."

CHAPTER VII

PARADISE BEND

Where the Dogsoldier River doubles onitself between Baldy Mountain and theGovernment Hills sprawls the little townof Paradise Bend. Larger than Farewell, itboasted of two stores, a Wells Fargooffice, two dance halls, and five saloons.The inevitable picket line of empty bottles

and tin cans encircled it, and its mainstreet and three cross streets were madeunlovely by the familiar false fronts andwaveringly misspelt signs.

Loudon stared at the prospect with apessimistic eye. Solitude—he had partedwith Captain Burr the previous day—andthe introspection engendered thereby hadrendered him gloomy. The sulky devil thathad prompted him to seek a quarrel withSheriff Block abode with him still.Sullenly he checked his horse in front ofthe Chicago Store.

"Mornin'," said Loudon, addressing adilapidated ancient sitting on a crackerbox. "Can yuh tell me where Cap'n Burrlives?"

"Howdy, stranger?" replied the elderlyperson, eying with extreme disfavour the88 brand on Ranger's hip. "I shore can.Ride on down past the Three Card, turn tothe left, an' keep a-goin'. It's the lasthouse."

Loudon nodded and continued on hisway. The ancient followed him with alerteyes.

When Loudon drew abreast of the ThreeCard Saloon a man issued from thedoorway, glimpsed Ranger's brand, andimmediately hastened into the street andgreeted Loudon after the fashion of an oldfriend.

"C'mon an' licker," invited the man, as

Loudon checked his horse.

"Now that's what I call meetin' yuh witha brass band," remarked Loudon. "Do yuhalways make a stranger to home this-away?"

"Always," grinned the other. "I'm thereception committee."

"I'm trailin' yuh," said Loudon,dismounting.

He flung the reins over Ranger's headand followed the cordial individual intothe saloon. While they stood at the barLoudon took stock of the other man.

He was a good-looking young fellow,strong-chinned, straight-mouthed, with

brown hair and eyes. His expression waswinning, too winning, and there was acertain knowing look in his eye that didnot appeal to Loudon. The latter drank hiswhisky slowly, his brain busily searchingfor the key to the other man's conduct.

"Gambler, I guess," he concluded. "Imust look like ready money. Here's whereone tinhorn gets fooled."

After commenting at some length on theextraordinary dryness of the season,Loudon's bottle-acquaintance, under coverof the loud-voiced conversation of threepunchers at the other end of the bar, saidin a low tone:

"Couldn't Sam come?"

Loudon stared. The other noted hismystification, and mistook it.

"I'm Pete O'Leary," he continued. "It's allright."

"Shore it is," conceded the puzzledLoudon. "My name's Loudon. Haveanother."

The knowing look in Pete O'Leary's eyeswas displaced by one of distrust. Hedrank abstractedly, mumbled an excuseabout having to see a man, and departed.

Loudon bought half-a-dozen cigars,stuffed five into the pocket of his shirt, litthe sixth, and went out to his horse.Puffing strongly, he mounted and turned

into the street designated by thedilapidated ancient. As he loped past thecorner he glanced over his shoulder. Henoted that not only was Pete O'Learywatching him from the window of a dancehall, but that the tattered old person,leaning against a hitching rail, wasobserving him also.

"I might be a hoss-thief or somethin',"muttered Loudon with a frown. "Thisshore is a queer village o' prairie dogs.The cigar's good, anyway." Then, hishorse having covered a hundred yards inthe interval, he quoted, "'Couldn't Samcome?' an', 'I'm Pete O'Leary.' Sam, Sam,who's Sam? Now if Johnny Ramsay washere he'd have it all figured out in notime."

"Why, Mr. Loudon! Oh, wait! Do wait!"

Loudon turned his head. In the doorwayof a house stood a plump young womanwaving a frantic dish-cloth. Ranger, hardheld, slid to a halt, turned on a nickel, andshot back to the beckoning young woman.

"Well, ma'am," said Loudon, removinghis hat.

"Don't you remember me?" coquettishlypouted the plump lady.

Loudon remembered her perfectly. Shewas Mrs. Mace, wife of Jim Mace, acitizen of Paradise Bend. He had met herthe year before when she was visiting

Kate Saltoun at the Bar S. He had not oncethought of Mrs. Mace since her departurefrom the ranch, and of course he hadcompletely forgotten that she lived inParadise Bend. If he had recalled the fact,he would have sought the Burrs' residenceby some other route. One of Kate's friendswas the last person on earth he cared tomeet.

"Shore, I remember yuh, Mrs. Mace,"said Loudon, gravely. "I'm right glad tosee yuh," he added, heavily polite.

"Are you?" said the lady somewhatsharply. "Try to look happy then. I ain't agrizzly, an' I don't bite folks. I won't stopyou more'n a second."

"Why, ma'am, I am glad to see yuh,"protested Loudon, "an' I ain't in no hurry,honest."

"That's all right. I ain't offended. Say,how's Kate an' her pa?"

"Fine when I saw 'em last. Kate's aspretty as ever."

"She ought to be. She ain't married.Matrimony shore does rough up awoman's figure an' face. Lord, I'm a goodthirty pounds heavier than I was when Isaw you last. Say, do you know if Kate gotthat dress pattern I sent her last month?"

"I dunno, ma'am. I didn't hear her say."

"I s'pose not. I guess you two had more

important things to talk about. Say, howare you an' Kate gettin' along, anyway?"

"Why, all right, I guess."

Loudon felt extremely unhappy. Mrs.Mace's keen gaze was embarrassing. Sowas her next utterance.

"Well, I guess I'll write to Kate,"remarked the lady, "an' find out about thatdress pattern. She always was a poorwriter, but she'd ought to have sent me athank-you anyway, an' me her best friend.I'll tell her I saw yuh, Mr. Loudon."

"Don't tell her on my account," saidLoudon. Then, realizing his mistake, hecontinued hurriedly, "Shore, tell her. She'd

enjoy hearin', o' course."

"Don't tell me you two haven't beenquarrellin'," chided Mrs. Mace, shaking afat forefinger at Loudon. "You'd ought tobe ashamed of yourselves, rowin' thisway."

"Why, ma'am, yo're mistaken. Mequarrel? I guess not! But I got to be goin'.Good-bye, ma'am. I'll see yuh again."

Loudon, raging, loped away. Meetingone of Kate's friends was bad enough initself. For the friend wantonly to flick himon the raw was intolerable.

Loudon began to believe that womenwere put into the world for the purpose of

annoying men. But when he haddismounted in front of the best house onthe street, and the door had been opened inresponse to his knock, he changed hismind, for a brown-haired young girl witha very pleasant smile was looking at himinquiringly.

"Is this where Captain Burr lives?"queried Loudon.

"Yes," replied the girl, her smilebroadening.

"Then here's a letter for Mis' Burr. TheCap'n asked me to bring it up for him."

"A letter for me?" exclaimed a sharpvoice, and the speaker, a tall, angular,

harsh-featured woman, appeared at thegirl's side with the suddenness of a Jack-in-the-box. "From Benjamin?" continuedthe harsh-featured woman, uttering herwords with the rapidity of a machine-gun'sfire. "How is he? When d'you see himlast? When's he comin' home?"

"Heavens, Ma!" laughed the girl, beforeLoudon could make any reply. "Give thepoor man a chance to breathe."

"You got to excuse me, stranger," saidMrs. Burr. "But I'm always so worriedabout Benjamin when he's travellin'. He'sso venturesome. But come in, stranger.Come in an' rest yore hat. Dinner's 'mostready."

"Why, thank yuh, ma'am," stuttered theembarrassed Loudon. "But I guess I'll goto the hotel."

"I guess yuh won't!" snapped Mrs. Burr."I never let one o' my husband's friends'cept Scotty Mackenzie eat at the hotel yet,an' I ain't goin' to begin now. You'll justcome right inside an' tell me all aboutBenjamin while yo're eatin'. That yourhoss? Well, the corral's behind the house.Dorothy, you go with the gentleman an' seethat he don't stampede."

Loudon, brick-red beneath his tan,seized Ranger's bridle and followed MissBurr to the corral. While he wasunsaddling he looked up and caught hereying him amusedly. He grinned and she

laughed outright.

"I'm glad you didn't stampede," she said,her brown eyes twinkling. "Mother wouldhave been heart-broken if you had.Whenever any of Dad's friends are intown they never think of eating at the hotel—except Scotty Mackenzie. Scottystubbornly refuses to dine with us. Hesays mother's cooking takes away hisappetite for what he calls ranch grub.Mother is really a wonderful cook. You'llsee."

In this manner was the ice broken, andLoudon's sullen gloom had gone from himby the time he entered the Burr kitchen. Onthe Turkey-red tablecloth a broiled steak,surrounded by roasted potatoes, reposed

on a platter. Flanking the platter were abowl of peas and a large dish of slicedbeets adrip with butter sauce. Loudon'seyes opened wide in amazement. Never inall his life had he beheld such anappetizing array of edibles.

"Looks good, don't it?" beamed Mrs.Burr.

It was wonderful how her smiletransformed her forbidding features. ToLoudon she appeared as a benevolentangel. He could only nod dumbly.

"Set now, an' don't be afraid o' thevictuals," continued Mrs. Burr, filling thecoffee-cups. "It all has to be et, an' I shoredo hate to chuck out good grub. Lord, it

makes me feel fine to cook for a managain! What did you say yore name is,Mister? ... Loudon, o' course; I never cancatch a name the first time. I always got tohear it twice. Dorothy, you reach over an'dish out them peas an' beets. Take thatpiece of steak next the bone, MisterLoudon. Like gravy on yore 'taters? Mostdo. My man does, special. Here's a spoon.Dorothy, pass the bread."

Everything tasted even better than itlooked. Loudon ate a second piece ofdried-apple pie, and had a fourth cup ofcoffee to top off with. To the puncher ithad been a marvellous dinner. No wonderScotty Mackenzie demurred at dining withthe Burrs. After one such meal sowbellyand Miners Delights would be as bootsole

and buckshot.

"You can smoke right here," said Mrs.Burr, after Loudon had refused a fifth cupof coffee. "Shove yore chair back agin' thewall, hook up yore feet, an' be happywhile Dorothy an' I wash the dishes. I liketo see a man comfortable, I do. So youknow my brother. Well, well, ain't theworld a small place? How're Jack an' theCross-in-a-box makin' out? He neverthinks to write, Jack Richie don't, the lazyrapscallion. Wait till I set eyes on him. I'lltell him a thing or two."

Loudon, in no haste to find ScottyMackenzie, was smoking his fifth cigarettewhen the dilapidated ancient of thecracker box stuck his head in the door.

"Howdy, Mis' Burr?" said the ancient."Howdy, Dorothy?"

"'Lo, Scotty," chorused the two women."Let me make yuh acquainted with Mr.Loudon, Scotty," continued Mrs. Burr."Mr. Loudon, shake hands with Mr.Mackenzie."

Loudon gripped hands with the raggedancient. In the latter's bright blue eyes wasno friendliness.

He acknowledged the introduction withcareful politeness, and sat down on achair in a corner. Having deftly rolled acigarette, he flipped the match through thedoorway, tilted back his chair, remarkedthat the weather was powerful dry, and

relapsed into silence. He took no furtherpart in the conversation.

At the end of the kitchen, between thewindows, hung a small mirror. Loudon,idly watching the two women as theymoved about resetting the table, happenedto glance at the mirror. In it he sawreflected the face of Scotty Mackenzie.

The features were twisted into an almostdemoniac expression of hate. SlowlyLoudon turned his head. Mackenzie, hiseyes on the floor, was smoking, hisexpression one of serene well-being.

"He don't like me any," decided Loudon,and pondered the advisability of askingMackenzie for a job.

It was not Mackenzie's lack offriendliness that gave Loudon pause. Itwas the man's appearance. Even for theWest, where attire does not make the man,Mackenzie had not an inspiring presence.His trousers showed several patches and arip or two. His vest was in a worse statethan his trousers. His blue flannel shirthad turned green in spots, and the leftsleeve had once belonged to a red flannelundershirt. Two holes yawned in thecorner of his floppy-brimmed hat, and hisboots, run over at the heels, would haveshamed a tramp.

That this economically garbedindividual could prove a good employerseemed doubtful. Yet he had beenrecommended by Jack Richie.

Mackenzie suddenly mumbled that heguessed he'd better be going, and rose tohis feet. Loudon followed him into thestreet. Mackenzie halted and half-turnedas Loudon caught up with him. Loudonnoted that the ancient's hand was closer tohis gun-butt than politeness and thecircumstances warranted.

"Hirin' any men?" inquired Loudon.

"I might," replied Mackenzie, the pupilsof his blue eyes shrunk to pin-points."Who, for instance?"

"Me for one."

Mackenzie continued to stare. Loudon,who never lowered his eyes to any man,

steadily returned the ancient's gaze.

"Yo're hired," said Mackenzie,suddenly. "Git yore hoss. I'll meet yuh atthe corner o' Main Street."

Mackenzie walked rapidly away, andLoudon returned to the house of the Burrs.He took his leave of the two engagingwomen, the elder of whom pressed himrepeatedly to come again, and went out tothe corral.

While Loudon awaited his employer'sarrival at the corner of Main Street he sawPete O'Leary emerge from the doorway ofthe Three Card Saloon and walk towardhim. But the young man of the knowingbrown eye did not cross the street. Henodded to Loudon and swung round thecorner.

The Lazy River man shifted sidewise inthe saddle and followed him with hiseyes. Pete O'Leary interested Loudon.Folk that are mysterious will bearwatching, and O'Leary's manner during hisconversation with Loudon had beenperplexingly vague.

"Now I wonder where that nice-lookin'young fellah is goin'?" debated Loudon.

"Burrs', for a plugged nickel! Yep, therehe goes in the door. Well, Mis' Burr ain't afool, but if I owned a good-lookin'daughter, that Pete O'Leary ain't just theright brand o' party I'd want should comea-skirmishin' round."

Loudon's mental soliloquy was cut shortby the arrival of Mackenzie. The ancient'sappalling disregard for his personalappearance did not extend to his mountand saddlery. His horse was a handsomebay. The saddle he sat in was a Billingsswell-fork tree, with a silver horn, silverconchas, carved leather skirts and cantle,and snowflake leather strings. The bridlewas a split-ear, with a nose-band evenmore marvellously carved than the saddle,and it sported a blue steel bit, silver

inlaid, and eighteen-inch rein-chains. Themost exacting dandy in cowland could nothave obtained better equipment.

Beyond a momentless sentence or twoMackenzie said nothing as he and his newhand rode out into the valley of theDogsoldier. He maintained his silence tillLoudon, muttering that his cinchesrequired tightening, checked Ranger anddismounted.

"Throw up yore hands!" was the harshorder that fell on Loudon's astonishedears.

Hands above his head, Loudon turnedslowly and stared into the muzzle of awell-kept six-shooter. Behind the gun

gleamed the frosty blue eyes of ScottyMackenzie.

"Got anythin' to say before I leave yuh?"inquired Mackenzie.

"That depends on how yuh leave me,"countered Loudon. "If yo're just aimin' tosay, 'So long,' yuh can't go too quick.Yo're a mite too abrupt to suit me. But ifyore intention is hostile, then I got a wholelot to say."

"Hostile it is, young feller. Trot out yorespeech."

"That's handsome enough for a dog.First, I'd shore admire to know why yo'rehostile."

"You know."

"I don't yet," denied Loudon.

Scotty Mackenzie stared woodenly. Hisfeatures betrayed no hint of his purpose.He might have been gazing at a cow or acalf or the kitchen stove. NeverthelessLoudon realized that the amazing old manwas within a whisper of pulling trigger.

"Yuh see," observed Loudon, forcing hislips to smile pleasantly, "it ain't the goin'away I mind so much—it's the not knowin'why. I get off to fix cinches, an' yuh throwdown on me. I ain't done nothin' to yuh—Iain't never seen yuh before, an' I don'tbelieve I've ever met up with any o' yorerelations, so——"

"Yo're from the 88," interruptedMackenzie. "That's enough!"

"Bein' from the 88," said Loudon, "isshore a bad recommend for any man. Butit just happens I'm from the Bar S. I neverhave rode for the 88, an' I don't think Iever will."

"What are yuh doin' with a 88 hoss?"pursued the unrelenting Mackenzie.

"88 hoss? Why, that little hoss is myhoss. I bought him from the 88."

"The brand ain't vented."

"I know it ain't. At the time I bought himI didn't expect to have to tell the story o'my life to every old bushwhacker in the

territory, or I shore would 'a' had thatbrand vented."

The six-shooter in Mackenzie's handremained steady. In his chill blue eyeswas no flicker of indecision. Loudon wasstill smiling, but he felt that his end wasnear.

"Say," said Loudon, "when you've doneleft me, I wish yuh'd send my hoss an'saddle to Johnny Ramsay o' the Cross in-a-box. Johnny's at the Bar S now—got afew holes in him. But you send the hoss toJack Richie an' tell him to keep him forJohnny till he comes back. Don't minddoin' that, do yuh? Ain't aimin' to keep thecayuse, are yuh?"

"Do you know Johnny Ramsay?" queriedMackenzie.

"Ought to. Johnny an' me've been friendsfor years."

"Know Jack Richie?"

"Know him 'most as well as I do Johnny.An' I know Cap'n Burr, too. Didn't yuh seeme there at his house?"

"The Cap'n knows lots o' folks, an' itain't hard to scrape acquaintance with acouple o' soft-hearted women."

"I brought up a letter from Cap'n Burr tohis wife. You ask her."

"Oh, shore. Yuh might 'a' carried a letter

an' still be what I take yuh for.'"

"Now we're back where we started.What do yuh take me for?"

Mackenzie made no reply. Again therefell between the two men that spirit-breaking silence. It endured a full fiveminutes, to be broken finally byMackenzie.

"Git aboard yore hoss," said the ranch-owner. "An' don't go after no gun."

"I'd rather draw what's comin' to me onthe ground," objected Loudon. "It ain't sofar to fall."

"Ain't nothin' comin' to yuh yet. Gitaboard, go on to the ranch, an' tell my

foreman, Doubleday, I sent yuh, an' that Iwon't be back yet awhile."

"I ain't so shore I want to work for yuhnow."

"There ain't no two ways about it. You'lleither give me yore word to go on to theranch an' stay there till I come, or yuh'llstay right here. After I come back yuh canquit if yuh like."

"That's a harp with another tune entirely.I'll go yuh."

Loudon turned to his horse and swunginto the saddle.

"Keep a-goin' along this trail," directedMackenzie, his six-shooter still covering

Loudon. "It's about eight mile to theranch."

Loudon did not look back as he rodeaway.

CHAPTER VIII

THE AMAZING MACKENZIE

Doubleday, a squat man with a sharpnose and a sharper eye, evinced nosurprise at his employer's message. Hemerely swore resignedly on learning that

Mackenzie had not sent in the mail byLoudon, and in the same breath thankedhis Maker that a new man had arrived.

The advent of Loudon was mostopportune, according to Doubleday. For,one "Lanky" having taken a wife andremoved to the Sweet River Agency, theFlying M was a man short.

"Turn yore hoss into the big corral," saidDoubleday, when he had sufficientlycondemned the foolishness of Lanky, "an'take yore saddle over to the bunkhouse.There's three empty bunks. Help yoreself.Then c'mon over to the little corral an'bring yore rope. Got an outlaw stallionwith a cut hind leg, an' it's a two-manjob."

Loudon found favour in the eyes ofDoubleday. The former Bar S puncher didhis work easily and well. He proved abetter roper than Doubleday, and he wasthe equal in horsemanship of "Telescope"Laguerre, the half-breed buster.

With Laguerre, Loudon struck up aninstant friendship. Telescope—whichname was the natural transformationundergone by Telesphore in a Westernclimate—was a long lean man, with thestraight black hair and the swarthycomplexion of his Indian mother and themobile features and facile speech andgestures of his French father. WhenLoudon had been at the Flying M threedays Telescope suggested that they ride totown in the evening.

"We weel go to de dance hall," saidLaguerre. "Fine woman dere. We weeldance a leetle, we weel dreenk dew'iskey, un we weel have de good tam. Bygar, I not been to town for two mont. Watyour say, Tom?"

"I'd shore enjoy goin' along, Telescope,but I can't," replied Loudon, mindful of hispromise to Scotty Mackenzie.

"Dat ees all right," said the large-heartedhalf-breed. "She ees my treat. I have moreas one hundred dollar, un by gar! I wan'for to spen' eet. You are my frien'. Youhelp me for spen' eet. We weel burn up dedance hall."

"Oh, I'm not broke," said Loudon. "I'll go

with yuh another time."

Laguerre, being wise in his generation,forbore to insist, and rode to town alone.The cook predicted a three-day orgy.

"Rats!" said Doubleday. "Yuh don'tknow Telescope. He never gets drunk. Hecan't. He sops it up an' he sops it up, an' itdon't bother him a mite. Wish I had hisgift. Why, I've seen him tuck away a quarto' killer inside o' three hours, an' then hopout with his rope an' fasten on a hoss anyleg you tell him. He's a walkin' miracle,Telescope is, an' he'll be back in themornin'."

Loudon, oiling his saddle in front of thebunkhouse, glanced casually at the cook

standing in the doorway, and wonderedfor the twentieth time where he had seenthe man before. On his arrival at theFlying M, Loudon had sensed that, in avague way, the cook's face was familiar.First impressions had taken no concreteform. He could not remember where orunder what circumstances he had seen thecook. But that he had seen him, he wascertain.

The cook's name was Rufe Cutting.Which name, however, was notenlightening. Idly speculating, Loudonwent on with his work. The cook returnedto the kitchen.

Laguerre bore out the statement ofDoubleday. He returned while the men

were saddling in the morning. He did notappear in the least degree wearied.Hurriedly changing his saddle to a freshhorse, he rode away with Loudon.

"By gar!" exclaimed Laguerre. "I havede fine tam. I dance, I dreenk de w'iskey,un I play de pokair wit' Pete O'Leary untwo odder men un I tak' deir money. Iween feefty dollar. By gar! I am glad I goto town, me."

"Yuh shore ought to be," said Loudon."Fifty dollars. That's right good hearin'."

"Pete O'Leary she wan' for know 'boutyou," continued Laguerre.

"Pete O'Leary asked about me! What did

he say, huh?"

"Oh, she not say eet plain. She walk eende watair. But I have been de scout; I haveleeve wit Enjun; I know w'at ees een eeshead. She talk 'bout Lanky quittin' deFlyin' M, un she wan' for know haveScotty hired new man. She say she seeScotty ride out wit' you, un she know youname. But I not say much. I tell PeteO'Leary to ask Scotty 'bout hees business,un I not say eef you work for de Flyin' Mor not. For I tink mabbeso Pete O'Learyshe ees not frien' to you."

"Well, he ain't strictly hostyle anyway,"said Loudon, and he forthwith toldLaguerre of his meeting with Pete O'Learyand of the latter's strange actions.

"Dat ees varree fonny," commentedLaguerre. "Pete O'Leary she was expectin'de frien' or de message mabbee. But datees not so fonny as hees askin' 'bout youso moch. She worry 'bout you, un dat eesfonny. Why she worry eef she hones' man?I tell you, my frien', I do not trus' dat PeteO'Leary. I would watch heem. I wouldwatch heem varree sharp."

"Oh, I don't believe it means anythin',"doubted Loudon. "But I'll keep an eyeskinned for him."

"You better, my frien', or mabbeso sometam she skeen you."

A week later Mackenzie returned. Thatevening, after supper, Doubleday toldLoudon that Scotty wanted to see him.Mackenzie, chair tilted, feet propped onthe table, his hands clasped behind hishead, was staring up at the ceiling whenLoudon entered the office. The chairdescended on four legs with a crash, andthe ancient arose briskly.

"Stranger," said Mackenzie, his blueeyes no longer frosty, "I was mistaken.Yo're a gent an' a white man, an' I ain'tholdin' out nothin'. Shake."

Loudon grinned and shook hands. Hewas satisfied with the other's apology.

"That's all right," said the puncher. "I

knowed yuh mistook me for somebodyelse. But I'd shore admire to know, if itain't private, who yuh thought I was."

"I don't mind tellin' yuh. I ain't evertalked about it much. Dunno why. Noreason why I shouldn't. Sit down, Loudon,an' I'll tell yuh. When I first seen yuh therein Main Street that 88 brand on yore hossmade me suspicious.

"Sam Blakely o' the 88 an' me ain'tfriends. We had a run-in some eight yearsago over at Virginia City, an' I kind o' leftSam the worse for wear. I heard later howSam was yellin' 'round that he'd get even.Knowin' Sam, I believed it. An' when Iseen you ridin' a 88 hoss, I says to myself,'Here's Sam done gone an' hired a party to

do the gettin' even.' When yuh wanted toride for me, I was shore of it.

"So when you got down to fix yorecinches I expected to be plugged the nextsecond, an' I throwed down on yuh. Yoreaskin' me to send yore hoss an' saddle toJohnny Ramsay was what stopped me. Iknowed if Johnny was a friend o' yoresyou was all right. So I sent yuh on, an' Itrailed yuh clear to the ranch. If you'dturned back I'd 'a' downed yuh. But yuhdidn't turn back.

"Well, after I seen yuh talkin' toDoubleday—— Shore; yuh know thatlittle hill about half-a-mile south? I wason top of it with a pair of field glasses—after I seen yuh talkin' to Doubleday, I

moseyed south again to the Cross-in-a-box."

"Two hundred miles!" exclaimedLoudon.

"About that," said Mackenzie, easily,quite as if a four-hundred-mile ride in tendays were an afternoon jaunt. "Yuh see, Iwanted to talk to Jack Richie. Didn't wantto go to the Bar S if I could help it. Me an'Saltoun never did pull together. He thinksI'm a fool, an' I know he's crazy.

"Well, I talked with Jack, an' heexplained everythin'. Said who yuh wasan' how yuh'd bought yore hoss from the88 an' how yuh'd creased Sam Blakely, an'all. That was fine work. Too bad yuh

didn't down him for good. He's a varmint.Worse'n a rattler. Yuh'd ought to 'a'plugged Marvin, too, after him tryin' tomake yuh out a rustler that-away. A sportlike that'll stand shootin' any day. What'sthe matter?"

For Loudon was amazedly staring atMackenzie.

"Four hundred miles both ways," saidthe puncher, "to see whether a forty-five-dollar-a-month hand was tellin' the truth!"

"Yuh was more than a hand," rejoinedMackenzie, with a slight smile. "Yuh wasopportunity, with a big O. Yuh see, whenyuh asked for a job I needed a man. Ineeded him bad. I was shore yuh was out

to down me. But when yuh said yuhknowed Johnny an' I changed my mindabout droppin' yuh, it come to me,provided you was straight, that you wasjust the feller for me. You was sent to me,like. You was Opportunity, see?

"An' I ain't never passed up anopportunity that I ain't been sorry. I'm kindo' superstitious thataway now, an' I'll goout o' my way to grab what I think lookslike an opportunity. I knowed I couldn'trest easy till I found out somethin' aboutyuh. So I done it. An' I'm —— glad I doneit.

"Doubleday tells me yo're the best roperhe ever seen, an' yo're a wonder with thestallions. A good man with stallions is

somethin' I've wished for ever since Iowned the Flyin' M. I never had him tillyou come. Opportunity! I guess yuh was,an' then a few. Now I don't know whetheryuh care about stayin', but I shore hopeyuh will. I'll see that yuh don't regret it."

"Shore I'll stay," said Loudon. "Themstallions is where I live."

"Then fifty-five a month goes for youfrom now on."

In this auspicious fashion beganLoudon's life at the Flying M. Yet Loudonwas not precisely happy. The cheerfulnessinduced by the whole-hearted Burrs hadbeen but temporary. He brooded over hiswrongs, and that is bad for a man. Like all

men who believe themselves hard hit, hedid not realize that there are a great manylonesome ladies in the world, any one ofwhom will make a man utterly happy.

One young woman had proved to be anarrant flirt, therefore all young womenwere flirts, and beauty was a snare and adelusion. So reasoned Loudon.Surrendering almost wholly to his mood,he rarely took part in the generalconversation in the bunkhouse. The menwondered at his aloofness, but noneessayed to draw him out. His smolderinggray eyes forbade any such familiarity.When riding the range with Laguerre,however, Loudon would emerge from hisshell, and a strong friendship swiftly grewup between the two.

One day, nearly two weeks afterMackenzie's return from the Cross-in-a-box, Loudon was in the blacksmith shopmaking a set of shoes for Ranger whenPete O'Leary rode up to the doorway andpeered in.

"Hello," said O'Leary, cheerily. "How'stricks?"

"Comin' in bunches," replied Loudon,shortly, and he blew the bellowsvigorously.

"That's good. Hot, ain't it? Well, I got tobe weavin' along. So long."

Loudon walked to the doorway and

watched O'Leary till he disappearedamong the cottonwoods fringing the bankof the Dogsoldier.

"Now I'd admire to know," hewondered, "if Pete O'Leary stopped herejust to ask how tricks was. He kind o'looked at yore brand, too, fellah," headded, addressing Ranger.

Thoughtfully he returned to his work.Five minutes later he whacked his kneeand whistled. Comprehension had at lastcome to him. He marvelled that it had notcome sooner.

"Now, why didn't I think o' thatquicker?" he muttered. "It was that 88brand on Ranger's hip that made Scotty

suspicious. So it was that brand must 'a'made O'Leary freeze to me when I siftedinto the Bend. 'Couldn't Sam come?' SamBlakely o' the 88! An' I never seen it tilljust now."

The moves of an enemy are alwaysinteresting. Even more thoughtfully thanbefore, Loudon pumped the handle of thebellows. Why was Blakely coming toParadise Bend? To settle his score withScotty Mackenzie? Loudon doubted it. Anewly engaged man does not, as a rule,jeopardize his future happiness byreopening old issues.

Whatever the precise nature of Blakely'spurpose might be, it was dark andMachiavellian in the main. O'Leary's

peculiar actions in the Three Card Saloonevinced as much.

"I don't see how it could have anythin' todo with me," puzzled Loudon. "Samcouldn't 'a' knowed I was comin' to theBend. I didn't know myself till just beforeI started. Yet here's O'Leary askin'Telescope about me an' skirmishin' overto see if I am at the Flyin' M. It shore is aheap mysterious."

Loudon decided to talk it over withScotty Mackenzie.

CHAPTER IX

AUTHORS OF CONFUSION

When Loudon went to the office thatevening he found Doubleday alone."Scotty's gone," said Doubleday, inresponse to Loudon's question. "He'straipsin' over to the Seven Lazy Seven.Wants to get rid o' some of our no-accountstock."

"When'll he be back?"

"Dunno. He may take in the Two Bar,Wagonwheel, T V U, an' the DoubleDiamond K before he comes back, Hemight stay away a week, or three weeks,or a month. Yuh can't keep tabs on Scotty.

I tried to once, but I give it up long ago."

Loudon did not take the garrulousDoubleday into his confidence. Nor did hemention the matter to Laguerre. The half-breed had seen O'Leary ride up to theblacksmith shop, and his Gallic curiositywas aroused to the full.

"My frien'," said Laguerre, when Loudonand he were mending a break in the corralfence the following day, "my frien', I wan'for tell you somethin'. Somethin' mabbesoyou not see. Yes'erday O'Leary she cometo de ranch; she go to de blacksmith shop.I see heem before she go to de blacksmithshop. I see heem aftair. Before she see youdere een de shop hees face was de face ofde man who ees not satisfy, who ees hunt

for somethin'. Wen I see heem aftair, shelook satisfy. She has foun' w'at she huntfor. Are you me?"

Loudon nodded.

"O'Leary's takin' a heap o' trouble on myaccount," he said, slowly.

"More dan I t'ought she would,"vouchsafed Laguerre. "I tell you, Tom, shehave not de good feelin' for you. Were eesdat damn hammair gone?"

Three weeks later, Loudon and Laguerrewere lazily enjoying the cool of theevening outside the door of the bunkhousewhen Doubleday came striding towardthem. In one hand the foreman waved a

letter. He appeared to be annoyed. Hewas.

"Tom, Scotty wants yuh to meet him atthe Bend Tuesday—that's to-morrow,"said Doubleday, crossly. "Yuh'll find himat the Three Card. —— it to ——! An' Iwanted you an' Telescope to ride the northrange to-morrow! Which that ScottyMackenzie is shore the most unexpectedgent! Says he wants yuh to ride yore ownhoss. Dunno what he wants yuh for. Hedon't say. Just says meet him."

Doubleday departed, swearing.

"Pore old Doubleday," drawled abristle-haired youth named SwingTunstall. "He gets a heap displeased with

Scotty sometimes."

"Scotty ain't just regular in his ways,"commented Giant Morton, a dwarfish manwith tremendously long arms. "Scottywasn't goin' beyond the Wagonwheel, if hegot that far, an' his letter was mailed inRocket, fifty miles south. I brought her infrom the Bend this aft'noon, an' I noticedthe postmark special."

"He wears the raggedest clo'es I everseen," said the cook. "An' he's got money,too."

"Money!" exclaimed Morton. "He'slousy with money. Wish I had it. Do yuhknow what I'd do? I'd buy me a seventeen-hand hoss an' a saloon."

"I wouldn't," said Loudon, winking atLaguerre. "I'd have a hacienda down inold Mexico, an' I'd hire half-a-dozengood-lookin' señoritas with black hair an'blue eyes to play tunes for me on banjos,an' I'd hire cookie here to come an' wakeme up every mornin' at five o'clock justso's I could have the pleasure o' heavin'him out o' the window an' goin' back tosleep."

By which it may be seen that the moodyLoudon was becoming more human. Hisremarks irritated the cook, who ratherfancied himself. He allowed himself to bethe more provoked because of a growingbelief that Loudon's habitually retiring andinoffensive manner denoted a lack ofmettle. Which mental attitude was shared

by none of the others.

At Loudon's careless words the cookbounced up from his seat on the doorsilland assumed a crouching position in frontof Loudon.

"Yuh couldn't throw nothin'!" yapped theman of pots and pans. "Yuh couldn't throwa fit, let alone me! An' I want yuh tounderstand I can throw any bowleggedmisfit that ever wore hair pants!"

"What did yuh throw 'em with—yoremouth?" inquired Loudon, gently.

The Lazy River man had not moved fromhis seat on the washbench. His armsremained folded across his chest. He

smiled pleasantly at the irate cook.

"I throwed 'em like I'm goin' to throwyou!" frothed the hot-tempered one. "Thatis," he added, sneeringly, "if yuh ain'tafraid."

The bristle-haired Tunstall sprangbetween the two.

"Don't mind him, Loudon!" he cried."He's only a fool idjit, but he's a goodcook, an' losin' him would be a calamity.He don't never pack no gun neither."

"I can see he ain't heeled," said Loudon,calmly. "But he shore talks just like aregular man, don't he?"

"Regular man!" bellowed the cook.

"Why——"

The sentence ended in a gurgle. ForTunstall, Morton, and Laguerre had hurledthemselves upon the cook and gagged himwith the crown of a hat.

"Ain't yuh got no sense at all?" growledMorton.

"'Tsall right," grinned Loudon, rising tohis feet. "I understand. Turn yore bullloose."

The three doubtfully released the cook.That misguided man promptly lowered hishead, spread wide his arms, and chargedat Loudon. The puncher sidestepped neatlyand gave the cook's head a smart

downward shove with the palm of hishand. The cook's face plowed the earth.

Spitting dirt and gravel he scrambled upand plunged madly at his elusiveadversary. This time Loudon did notbudge.

Even as the cook gripped him round thewaist Loudon leaned forward along thecook's back, seized the slack of histrousers, and up-ended him. The cook'shold was broken, and again his headcollided violently with the ground. He fellin a huddle, but arose instantly, hisstubborn spirit unshaken. Now he did notrush. He approached the puncher warily.

Swaying on his high heels Loudon

waited. Then run, with a pantherlike leap,he flung himself forward, drove both armsbeneath those of the cook and clipped himround the body. The cook strove for astrangle-hold, but Loudon forestalled theattempt by hooking his chin over hisopponent's shoulder. Legs apart, Loudonlifted and squeezed.

Gradually, as Loudon put forth all hisgreat strength, the breath of the cook wasexpelled from his cracking chest in gaspsand wheezes. His muscles relaxed, hisface became distorted, empurpled.

Loudon released his grip. The cook felllimply and lay on his back, armsoutspread, his crushed lungs fighting forair. In the struggle his shirt had been

ripped across, and now his chest and oneshoulder were exposed. Loudon, gazingdown at the prostrate man, started slightly,then stooped and looked more closely atthe broad triangle of breast.

Abruptly Loudon turned away andresumed his seat on the bench. After atime the cook rolled over, staggered to hisfeet, and reeled into the bunkhouse withouta word.

No one commented on the wrestling-match. Swing Tunstall started a cheerfulreminiscence of his last trip to the Bend.Laguerre rose and passed silently roundthe corner of the bunkhouse. Loudon, chinon hand, stared off into the distance.

Suddenly, within the bunkhouse, therewas the thump of feet followed in quicksuccession by a thud and a grunt. Outthrough the doorway the cook tumbledheadlong, fell flat, and lay motionless, hisnose in the dirt, his boot-toes on thedoorsill. One outflung hand still clutchedthe butt of a six-shooter. From a gash onthe back of his head the blood oozedslowly.

Issued then Laguerre from the doorway.The half-breed was in his stocking feet.He wrenched the gun from the cook'sfingers, stuffed the weapon into thewaistband of his trousers, and squatteddown on his heels.

None of the onlookers had moved.

Gravely they regarded Laguerre and thecook. Loudon realized that he hadnarrowly escaped being shot in the back.A farce had developed into melodrama.

At this juncture Doubleday strolledleisurely out of the office. At sight of thefallen man and the serious group at thebunkhouse he quickened his steps.

"Who done it?" demanded Doubleday,severely, for he believed the cook to bedead.

"I heet heem on de head wit' my gun,"explained Laguerre. "Loudon she t'row decook. De cook she geet varree mad un goeen de bunkhouse. I t'ink mabbeso she dosomethin' un I go roun' de bunkhouse, tak'

off my boots, un crawl een de sidewindow. De cook she was jus' run fordoor wit' hees gun een hees han'. I stopheem."

Complacently Laguerre gazed upon thestill unconscious cook.

"The kyote!" exclaimed Doubleday."That's what comes o' not havin' any senseo' humour! —— his soul! Now I got tofire him. Trouble! Trouble! Nothin' but——"

The discouraged foreman slumped downbeside Loudon and rolled a cigarette withvicious energy.

Some ten minutes later the cook stirred,

rolled over, and sat up. He stared withdull eyes at the men on the bench. Stupidlyhe fingered the cut at the back of his head.As deadened senses revived and memoryreturned, his back stiffened, and defianceblazed up in his eyes.

"Telescope," said Loudon, "I'd take it asa favour if yuh'd give him his gun—an' hiscartridges."

The cook lost his defiant look when thehalf-breed complied with Loudon'srequest. Helplessly he eyed the gun amoment, then, struck with a bright idea, hewaggled his right wrist and grimaced as ifwith pain. Gingerly he rubbed the wrist-bone.

"Sprained my wrist," he stated brazenly."Can't shoot with my left hand nohow. If Icould, I'd shore enjoy finishin' up. Helluvanote this is! I start for to shoot it out with agent, an' one o' you sports whangs me overthe head an' lays me out. I'd admire toknow which one o' yuh done it."

"I done eet," Laguerre informed him, hiswhite teeth flashing under his blackmustache.

"I'll remember yuh," said the cook withdignity. "I'll remember you too," he addedlooking at Loudon. "Doubleday, I'd likemy time. I ain't a-goin' to cook for thisbunch no longer. An' if it's all the same toyou I'll take a hoss for part o' my pay."

"Well, by ——!" exclaimed Doubleday,hugely annoyed at being thus forestalled."You've got a nerve. You ought to behung!"

"Any gent does who works for the FlyingM," countered the cook. "But I'm quittin'.Do I get the hoss!"

"Yuh bet yuh do. An' yo're hittin' the trailto-night."

"The sooner the quicker."

Within half an hour Rufe Cutting,erstwhile cook at the Flying M, a bandageunder his hat, mounted his horse and rodeaway toward Paradise Bend. As hevanished in the gathering dusk, Swing

Tunstall laughed harshly.

"All yaller an' a yard wide!" observedGiant Morton, and spat contemptuously.

Loudon made no comment. He wasworking out a puzzle, and he was makingvery little headway.

In the morning he saddled Ranger andstarted for the Bend. He followed the trailfor a mile or two, then, fording theDogsoldier, he struck across the flatswhere a few of Mackenzie's horsesgrazed. He did not turn his horse's headtoward Paradise Bend till the Dogsoldierwas well out of rifle-range. Loudon's

caution was pardonable. Rufe Cuttingknew that he was to ride to the Bend, andRufe had a rifle. Loudon had marked himtying it in his saddle-strings.

It was quite within the bounds ofpossibility that the cunning Rufe was atthat very moment lying in wait somewhereamong the cottonwoods on the bank of theDogsoldier, for the trail in many placesswung close to the creek. Decidedly, thetrail was no fit route for any one at oddswith a citizen of the Cutting stamp.

Loudon, when he drew near the Bend,circled back to the creek and entered thetown by the Farewell trail.

He dismounted in front of the Three

Card, anchored Ranger to the ground, andwent into the saloon. Several men werestanding at the bar. They ceased talking athis entrance.

Loudon leaned both elbows on the barand demanded liquor. He sensed a certaintenseness, a vague chill in the atmosphere.The bartender, his eyes looking anywherebut at Loudon, served him hastily. Thebartender seemed nervous. Bottle andglass rattled as he placed them on the bar.

"Scotty Mackenzie come in yet?"inquired Loudon of the bartender, settingdown his empty glass.

"N-no," quavered the bartender, shrilly."I ain't seen him."

Loudon stared at the bartender. Whatwas the matter with the man? His face wasthe colour of gray wrapping-paper.Loudon turned and glanced along the barat the other customers. Two of them wereregarding him, a rapt fascination in theirexpressions. Swiftly the two men avertedtheir eyes.

Loudon hesitated an instant, then hewheeled and walked out of the saloon. Ashe crossed the sidewalk he noticed agroup of men standing near by. He stoopedto pick up his reins. When he straightenedthere was a sudden rustle and a whisk inhis rear. Something settled over hisshoulders and drew taut, pinning his armsto his sides.

"What in——" swore Loudon, andbegan to struggle furiously.

He was at once jerked over on his back.He fell heavily. The shock partiallystunned him. Dazedly he gazed upwardinto a ring of faces. The features of allsave one were blurred. And that face wasthe face of Block, the Sheriff of FortCreek County.

Loudon felt a tugging at his belt andknew that one was removing his six-shooter. He was pulled upright, his handswere wrenched together, and before hewas aware of what was taking place, hiswrists were in handcuffs. Now hisfaculties returned with a rush.

"What seems to be the trouble, anyway?"he demanded of the crowd in general.

"It seems yo're a hoss thief," replied abrown-bearded man wearing a star on theleft lapel of his vest.

"Who says so?"

"This gent." The brown-bearded manpointed at Block.

"It's no good talkin', Loudon," saidBlock, grinning after the fashion of the catwhich has just eaten the canary. "I knowyuh. Yuh stole that hoss yo're ridin' fromthe 88 ranch. There's the brand to prove it.But that ain't all. Yuh was caught rustlin'88 cows. Yuh branded 'em Crossed

Dumbbell. An' yuh got away by shootin'Sam Blakely, an' holdin' up Marvin an'Rudd. I don't guess yuh'll get away now ina hurry."

"Where's yore warrant?"

"Don't need no warrant."

"That's right," corroborated the brown-bearded man with the star. "Yuh don'tneed no warrant for a hoss-thief an' arustler. I tell yuh, stranger, yo're lucky tobe still alive. I'm doin' yuh a favour bylettin' yuh go south with Sheriff Block. Byrights yuh'd ought to be lynched instanter."

"Yuh don't say," said Loudon, gently."Who are yuh, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm only the marshal here at theBend," replied with sarcasm the brown-bearded man. "My name's Smith—DanSmith. Yuh might 'a' heard o' me."

"Shore, I've heard o' yuh, an' I'dunderstood yuh was a party with sense an'not in the habit o' believin' everythin' yuhhear. Now——"

"Yuh understood right," said themarshal, drily. "I'm listenin' to yuh now,an' I don't believe everythin' I hear."

"Yo're believin' Block, an' he's thebiggest liar in Fort Creek County, an' that'ssayin' quite it lot, seein' as how the 88outfit belongs in Fort Creek. Now I neverbranded no 88 cows. The 88, because they

knowed I knowed they'd been brandin'other folks' cattle, went an' branded a cowan' a calf o' their own with the CrossedDumbbell an' then tried to throw the blameon me. But the trick didn't pan out. Theycouldn't prove it nohow. Jack Richie o' theCross-in-a-box can tell yuh I didn't rustlethem cattle."

"I thought yuh was workin' for the BarS," put in the marshal.

"I was, but I quit."

"Then why wouldn't Saltoun o' the Bar Sknow all about it? What did yuh say JackRichie for?"

The marshal drooped a wise eyelid. He

considered himself a most astute cross-examiner.

"I said Jack Richie because he was thereat the Bar S when Marvin an' Rudd drovein the cow an' the calf. It was him proved Icouldn't 'a' branded them cattle like theysaid I did."

"Why wouldn't Saltoun o' the Bar Sspeak for yuh?" inquired the marshal.

"He would, I guess," replied Loudon."Old Salt an' me don't just hitch, but he'ssquare. He'd tell yuh about it."

"He won't tell me. The Bar S an' theCross-in-a-box are more'n two hundredmiles south. I ain't ridin' that far to get

yore pedigree. No, yuh can just bet I ain't.This gent here, Sheriff Block, will takeyuh south. If it's like yuh say it is, then yuhneedn't worry none. Yuh'll have yorewitnesses an' all right there."

"Don't yuh understand? I'll never seenone o' my friends. The 88 outfit willlynch me soon as ever I hit Farewell. I tellyuh I know too much about 'em. They wantme out o' the way."

Before the marshal could reply therewas a bustle in the crowd, and a high-pitched feminine voice inquired what evilwas being visited upon Mr. Loudon. Aninstant later Mrs. Burr, barearmed andperspiring, unceremoniously pushed Blockto one side and confronted the marshal.

"What yuh doin' to him?" she demanded,with a quick jerk of her head towardLoudon.

"Why, Mis' Burr, ma'am," replied themarshal, "he's a hoss thief, an' he's goin'south to Farewell."

"He ain't goin' to Farewell," retortedMrs. Burr, "an' he ain't a hoss thief. Whosays so?"

"I do, ma'am," said Block, steppingforward. "He's a hoss thief, an'——"

"Hoss thief yoreself!" snapped Mrs.Burr, wheeling on Block so fiercely thatthe sheriff gave ground involuntarily. "Themore I look at yuh the more yuh look like a

hoss thief an' a rustler an' a road agent.You shut up, Dan Smith! I always guessedyuh was an idjit, an' now I know it! Thisman, Mr. Tom Loudon, is a friend o' myhusband's. I know him well, an' if yuhthink yo're goin' to string him up for a hossthief yo're mistaken."

"But, ma'am," explained the unhappymarshal, "we ain't a-goin' to string him up.This gent, Sheriff Block, is takin' himsouth. He'll get justice down there, Mis'Burr."

"Will he? If the folks down there are aswitless as you are he won't. Justice! Yuhmake me plumb weary! Did yuh ask to seethis Block man's warrant? Answer me!Did you?"

"He ain't got no warrant," replied themarshal in a small voice.

"Ain't got no warrant!" screamed Mrs.Burr. "Ain't got no warrant, an' yo're lettin'him take away a party on just his say-so!Dan Smith, since when have yuh alloweda stranger to come in an' tell you what todo? What right has this Block man fromFort Creek County to try an' run ParadiseBend, I'd like to know?"

"I ain't tryin' to run the Bend," defendedBlock. "I wouldn't think o' such a thing.But I want this hoss thief, an' I mean tohave him."

The words had barely passed Block'steeth when Loudon's self-control broke.

With an inarticulate howl of rage hesprang at Block and drove the ironmanacles into the sheriff's face.

Down went Block with Loudon on top ofhim. Twice, three times, before Dan Smithand two others pulled him up and away,Loudon smashed the handcuffs home. Itwas a bloody-faced, teeth-spitting sheriffthat got slowly to his feet.

"By ——!" gibbered Block. "By ——!I'll down you here an' now!"

A tall man with square features tappedthe raving sheriff on the shoulder.

"Don't cuss no more before a lady,"advised the square-featured man. "An'

don't go draggin' at no gun. This ain't FortCreek County. Yo're in Paradise Bend, an'I just guess yuh won't beef any sport withhis hands tied. This goes as it lays."

From the crowd came murmurs ofapproval. Public opinion was changingfront. Mrs. Burr smiled serenely.

"Yo're a real gent, Jim Mace," she said,addressing the square-featured man. "Ialways knowed you'd protect adefenseless female. Dan Smith," shecontinued, turning to the marshal, "unlockthem handcuffs."

Dan Smith hesitated. Then Block spoiledhis own case. He seized Loudon by theshoulders. Loudon promptly kicked him in

the skins [Transcriber's note: shins?] andendeavoured to repeat his former assaultwith the handcuffs. But the two menholding him wrestled him backward.

"Do I get him?" bellowed Block, rabidwith pain, for Loudon had kicked him withall his strength. "Do I get him, or are yuhgoin' to let a woman tell yuh what to do?"

Jim Mace stepped close to the sheriff.

"Stranger," said Mace, sharply, "you'vedone chattered enough. In yore ownpartic'lar hog-waller yuh may be a full-size toad, but up here yo're half o' nothin'.Understand?"

The sheriff looked about him wildly.

The Paradise Benders, cold, unfriendly,some openly hostile, stared back. Wroughtup though he was, the sheriff had witenough to perceive that he was treadingclose to the edge of a volcano. The sheriffsubsided.

"Dan," said Mace, "it's come to a show-down. It's the word o' Mis' Burr agin'Block's. There's only one answer. If I wasyou I'd unlock them handcuffs."

"Yo're right, Jim," agreed the marshal. "Iwill."

"Gimme my gun," demanded Loudon,when his hands were free.

"In a minute," parried the marshal.

"Sheriff, if I was you I'd hit the trail. Yorepopularity ain't more'n deuce-high justnow."

"I'll go," glowered Block. "But I'll beback. An' when I come I'll have a warrant.I reckon the Sheriff o' Sunset will honourit, even if you won't."

"Bring on yore warrant," retorted themarshal.

The rumble of wheels and thud of hoofsattracted Loudon's attention. Over theheads of the crowd he saw the high sidesof a tarpaulin-covered wagon and, sittingon the driver's seat, Captain BenjaminBurr and Scotty Mackenzie.

"Hi, Cap'n Burr. Hi, Scotty!" shoutedLoudon.

"Where are they?" exclaimed Mrs. Burr,her harsh features lighting up. "Oh, therethey are! You Benjamin Burr, come rightin here this instant. Yore wife wants yorehelp!"

Captain Burr swayed back on the reins.Dragging a sawed-off shotgun he hoppedto the ground, Scotty Mackenzie at hisheels. The crowd made way for them.Captain Burr swept his hat off and bowedceremoniously to his wife.

"My love," said he, "in what way may Iassist you?"

"That party," sniffed Mrs. Burr, levellinga long forefinger at the wretched Block,"comes up an' accuses Mr. Tom Loudonhere o' bein' a rustler an' a hoss thief. Sayshe's been brandin' 88 cows an' that hestole that chestnut hoss yonder."

The sawed-off shotgun, an eight-gaugeGreener, covered Block's belt buckle.

"Suh, you lie," said Burr, simply.

"What did I tell all you folks?" criedMrs. Burr, triumphantly.

Block made no attempt to draw. Hefolded his arms and glared ferociously.He found glaring difficult, for he knew thathe did not look in the least ferocious.

"I'm doin' my duty," he said, sullenly.

"Gentlemen all, I'd like some show inthis," pleaded Loudon. "Just gimme backmy gun, an' me an' Block'll shoot it out."

"Wait a shake," said Scotty, slidingbetween Loudon and Block. "Let me getthe straight of this. You accuse Loudonhere of brandin' 88 cattle?"

"Shore," insisted the stubborn Block,"an' he stole that chestnut hoss he's ridin',too. Just look at the 88 brand. It's plain asday."

"Suh," burst out Burr, "I happened to beat the 88 ranch the day my friend TomLoudon bought that chestnut hoss. I saw

him pay Blakely. Everybody in Fo't CreekCounty knows that Tom Loudon hasowned that hoss fo' upwa'ds of a yeah.You know it, you rascal! Don't attempt todeny it!"

To this sweeping assertion Block madeno reply.

"I guess now that settles half the cat-hop," said Scotty. "The other half I knowsomethin' about myself. Jack Richie o' theCross-in-a-box told me. It was thisaway——"

And Scotty related the tale of Marvinand Rudd and the Crossed Dumbbell cowand calf.

"Now what yuh got to say?" Scottydemanded of Block when the story wastold.

"What can I do?" snapped Block. "It's awhole town agin' one man. I'll get awarrant, an' yuh can gamble on that. If Ithought I'd get a square deal, I'd admire toshoot it out."

"Gimme my gun," begged Loudon."Gimme it, or lend me one, somebody. Hewants to shoot it out."

"No," said Scotty, firmly, "it's gonebeyond shootin'. Block knowed you wasinnocent. He couldn't help knowin' it. Hetried to work such a sneakin', low-downtrick that killin' don't seem to fit somehow.

He'd ought to be rode on a rail or buriedup to his neck or somethin'."

"Tar an' feather him," suggested Mrs.Burr.

"We ain't got no tar," said Jim Mace,"an' there ain't a chicken in the place."

"There's molasses an' goose-hair quiltsin the Chicago Store," said Mrs. Burr,helpfully. "What more do yuh want?"

Molasses and feathers! Here was anextravagant jape! Block's hand sweptdownward. But no smooth revolver-buttmet his clutching fingers. A far-seeingsoul had, in the confusion, adroitlyremoved the sheriff's six-shooter.

In all seriousness the men of ParadiseBend set about their work. They saw nohumour in the shriekingly grotesquebusiness. Sheriff Block essayed tostruggle. But Scotty and other leadingcitizens attached themselves to his armsand legs and pulled him down and satupon him.

When one came running with a five-gallon jug of molasses Block, utteringstrange cries, was spread-eagled. Fromhis forehead to his feet the molasses wasthickly applied. When the front of him hadbeen thoroughly daubed, he was rolledover upon a ripped-up quilt—this so thatnone of the molasses might be wasted—and a fresh jug was brought into play.

Dripping like a buckwheat cake,writhing in an agony of shame, Block wasrolled up in the quilt. Then the quilt wastorn away and men showered upon him thecontents of other quilts. The ParadiseBenders used up ten gallons of molassesand three quilts on Block, and they made acomplete job. Awful was the wreck thatstaggered down the street.

Somehow the sheriff contrived to reachthe stable where he had left his horse, andsomehow—for his movements were themovements of one far gone in drink—hethrew on the saddle and passed the cinch-straps. Mounting with difficulty, he rodeaway. None offered to molest him further.

CHAPTER X

THE HORSE THIEF

Loudon, who had taken no part in thefeathering, watched the departure of thesheriff with brooding eyes. He did notagree with Scotty Mackenzie and thecitizens of the Bend. In his estimation thepunishment had not been sufficientlydrastic. Alive and in possession of all hisfaculties the sheriff was a great power forevil. He would seek revenge.

Loudon swore softly. He was far from

being a bloodthirsty man, but he regardedthe killing of Block as a duty. And he didnot believe in putting off till some futuredate what could be accomplished to-day.

"It's quite a list," he said to himself."Block, Rufe Cutting, Blakely, an' thewhole 88 outfit. An' they won't be happytill they get me. It kind o' looks as ifBlakely ain't expectin' to keep our littleengagement in Farewell. Block wouldn't'a' come up here without Blakely senthim."

Thoughts of Blakely quite naturallyinduced thoughts of Pete O'Leary. Wherewas O'Leary? Loudon recollected that hehad not seen O'Leary in the crowd. Helooked up and down the street. O'Leary

was nowhere in sight. His absence was asmall thing in itself, but it might signify aguilty conscience. Loudon wondered.

That disreputable person, ScottyMackenzie, approached, leading his horse.

"Tom," said Scotty, his blue eyestwinkling, "don't look so downhearted. Hewasn't worth shootin'."

"I dunno, Scotty," replied Loudon. "It'llcome to it some day, or I miss my guess."

"Yuh'll miss it while yo're workin' forme. Block won't never come to the Bendagain, an' yuh can go the limit on that.D'juh get the mail?"

"I ain't been to the post office. Didn't

have time. I've been right busy ever since Isifted in."

"I'll get it then. Cap'n Burr wants yuh toeat dinner at his house. I'll drift roundlater. Better finish up what yuh come totown for before yuh eat."

"I come to town to meet you."

"To meet me!" exclaimed Scotty. "Nowlook here, Tom, do I look like I need agardeen?"

"Didn't yuh write to Doubleday," saidthe bewildered Loudon, "tellin' him tosend me in to meet yuh here to-day an' forme to ride my own hoss?"

"What are yuh talkin' about? Me write

Doubleday! I should say not!"

"Well, all I know is Doubleday got aletter from yuh, an' it was mailed inRocket."

"Mailed in Rocket! Why, I never was inRocket! It's just luck me bein' here to-day.If I hadn't met Ben Burr down at theWagonwheel I wouldn't 'a' come foranother couple o' days, mebbe."

"It's damn funny. That letter from Rocketis no dream."

"I hope Doubleday saves the letter.Well, you go on an' eat. See yuh later."

Loudon swung into the saddle andgalloped to the house of Captain Burr. On

the doorsill Dorothy Burr and PeteO'Leary sat side by side. As Loudondismounted Miss Bunrose to meet him.

"Oh, Mr. Loudon!" she exclaimed, "I'vejust heard about your frightful experience.I wish I'd been there. I'd have enjoyedseeing them plaster up that brute of asheriff."

"He did look kind o' odd," said Loudon."Yore ma shore saved my life."

"Wasn't it luck Ma was down street? Iusually go myself, but this morning Mr.O'Leary came, so Ma went. We didn'tknow there was anything going on till Macame back and told us, and then it was allover. My! I'd like to have seen Ma talking

to that stupid Dan Smith. The big idiot!Ma's mad yet. Oh, I forgot. Have you metMr. O'Leary?"

"I know him," said Loudon ratherungraciously, and nodded to the gentlemanin question. "I guess I'll put the little hossin the corral."

"Yes, do. Pa's out there. Dinner'll beready soon."

Miss Burr returned to the doorsill, andLoudon led away Ranger. So Pete O'Learyhad been spending the morning at theBurrs'! It would be interesting to knowwhy the engaging O'Leary had chosen tocall upon that particular morning. Was itbecause he did not wish to identify

himself in any way with Sheriff Block?Was it the guilty conscience?

"Well, suh," smiled Captain Burr, whowas kneeling at the feet of one of hishorses, "well, suh, it went against thegrain to let that scoundrel go in peace,didn't it?"

Loudon smiled grimly.

"I appreciate youah feelings in thematteh, Tom," continued the Captain."Such a puhson should not be allowed tolive. My impulse was to shoot him, but Istayed my hand. As I may have mentionedbefo', I am growing soft-heahted. That'sright, Tom, cuss away. If Block wereotheh than he is, he would shoot himself.

No gentleman would care to live aftehbeing tah'd and feath'ed. But Block willwrithe onwa'd like the snake he is till heis crushed once fo' all.

"Do you remembeh what I said the dayyou made him quit right in the street inFa'ewell? Well, suh, in o'deh to regain therespect of the town he did kill a man—aninoffensive strangeh."

"Yuh might know it. He'll be a reg'lar'Billy the Kid' before a great while."

"Not quite. The Lincoln County youngman was a wa'-eagle. Block's a buzza'd.Tom, I'm afraid this Jeffe'son Davis hossis developing a wind-puff."

Loudon made no reply. He was watchingan approaching rider. The horsemanpassed by without a glance toward thecorral and loped on into town.

Now the road in front of the Burr housewas the beginning of the trail to the FlyingM ranch, and the mounted man was noneother than Rufe Cutting. It was evident toLoudon that he had not underestimated thecook. He resolved to seek out his would-be bushwhacker immediately.

Loudon looked quickly down at theCaptain. If Burr had perceived Loudon'sabsorption he gave no sign. He merelyrequested Loudon's opinion of the slightswelling on Jefferson Davis's near fore.

"Yuh've got to excuse me, Cap'n," saidLoudon, hastily. "I've got a little businessto attend to before I eat."

"Need any help?" inquired Burr,reaching for his Greener.

"No, thanks," replied Loudon, swiftlyresaddling Ranger.

"Dinner!" called Mrs. Burr, sticking herhead out of the kitchen door a momentlater. "Why, where's Tom Loudon?"

"He's gone away," grumbled herhusband, regretfully eying his shotgun.

"Well, of all things! Just as dinner'sready! Don't he know he's eatin' here?Will he be gone long?"

"He may not be away twenty minutes,and then, on the otheh hand, he may nevehretuhn."

"Never return! What are you talkin'about, Benjamin Burr?"

"Wait and see, my love, wait and see,"rejoined the Captain, and went in todinner.

Loudon, meanwhile, had galloped downto the corner of Main Street. Rufe Cuttingwas not in sight. But his horse wasstanding among the horses in front of theJacks Up Saloon. Loudon rode across thestreet and dismounted behind a freighter's

wagon near the Chicago Store, where hecould not be observed from the windowsof the Jacks Up. Then he walked brisklyup the street and entered the saloon.

Rufe Cutting, his scratched features castin sullen lines, was drinking at the bar. Sowere several other men. A knot of citizensin Cutting's immediate rear werediscussing the events of the morning. Twofaro tables were crowded. The Jacks Upwas in full blast. With the place crowdeda gun-play was apt to result in damage tothe bystanders.

However, the choice lay with Cutting.Loudon would allow the first move.

With this intention, Loudon edged up to

the bar and called for a drink. At thesound of his voice Cutting turned a slowhead. There were two men in between, butthey were not standing close to the bar.

Loudon, watching Cutting out of his eye-corners, picked up his glass with his lefthand. Even as he did so, panic seizedCutting. His fingers closed on his own fullglass and he hurled it at Loudon's head.

Involuntarily Loudon dodged. When herecovered himself his gun was out.

The bartender promptly vanished underthe bar. Men skipped and dodged andflung themselves over tables and chairs intheir anxiety to give Loudon a clear line offire. But Cutting had disappeared.

Two swearing men sprawling under anopen rear window told the story. In hisfear-stricken efforts to escape Cutting hadknocked them both down.

Loudon and the two men, one of whomwas Jim Mace and the other Dan Smith,went through the window almostsimultaneously. Both sashes went withthem to a brave accompaniment ofcrackling glass.

Loudon landed on his knees, and was intime for a snapshot at a leg sliding over awindowsill of the house next door. BeforeLoudon could rise Mace and the marshaltumbled over him. The three fell in atangle and rolled among tin cans andbottles for a space of time. When at last,

red-faced and almost breathless, theyrushed the house next door they werestopped by an angry woman brandishing afrying-pan.

"You drunk hunkers can't come throughhere!" screamed the irate lady. "If you an'yore fool friends want to play tag yuh canplay her in the street! What do yuh meanby bustin' into folks' houses an' wakin' mybaby up? You idjits! She'll be bawlin' herbrains out all day now!"

"We're after a hold-up!" cried Loudonwith great presence of mind.

It had the desired effect.

"Why didn't yuh say so at first? Come

right in."

Through the house and out of the frontdoor they dashed. Drifting clouds of dustmarked Cutting's line of flight. He was aquarter of a mile distant, spurring for theford of the Dogsoldier and the Farewelltrail. The marshal fired a futile shot.Loudon laughed and holstered his six-shooter.

"Look at him go!" he chuckled. "Scaredstiff."

"Get yore hosses!" commanded themarshal. "Don't stand here gassin'! We'llgo after him right away!"

"Oh, let him go," drawled Loudon. "He

ain't worth chasin'."

"But he's a road agent, ain't he?" saidJim Mace.

"No, I just said he was," grinnedLoudon. "He ain't nothin' but a right goodcook, so far as I know."

"Ain't he done nothin'?" inquired theperplexed marshal.

"Only jerked a glass of whisky at me,"replied Loudon. "Yuh see, I ain't rightpopular with him."

"From the way he's splittin' the breeze,"said Jim Mace, "it looks like he don't carefor yore society none."

"I'd ought to go after him," grunted themarshal, vengefully, tenderly feeling askinned elbow. "I don't mind a reg'lar gun-play, but this here chuckin' glasses roundpromiscuous an' bumpin' folks over ain'tright. It's agin' law an' order. He'd ought tobe arrested. The calaboose has beenempty for a week, too."

Loudon left Jim Mace and Dan Smithexplaining matters to the gathering crowd,and walked back to where he had left hishorse. Ranger was not behind thefreighter's wagon. Loudon ran into theChicago Store.

"Shore," said the proprietor. "I seen afeller climbin' aboard that hoss a fewminutes ago. Seemed in a hurry, too.

What? Yore hoss!"

The proprietor ducked under the counterfor his spurs and his rifle, and Loudonhurried out. Cutting's mount, the bay hehad bought from Doubleday, was ofcourse standing where he had been leftamong the other horses. Loudon threw thedropped reins over the bay's head andswung up.

"He's a hoss thief!" he shouted to DanSmith and Jim Mace. "He got away on myhoss!"

Quirting and spurring, Loudon tore downthe street. Before the horse's hoofsspattered the water of the ford theproprietor of the Chicago Store and the

marshal were galloping in his wake. JimMace and a score of others followed atintervals. A horse was not stolen inParadise Bend every day. The inhabitantswere bent on making the most of theiropportunity.

The bay was a good horse, but Rangerwas the better, and Loudon knew it—knew, too that, unless Ranger fell down,Cutting would escape.

"Ranger's good for all day," groanedLoudon. "All day an' not strain himself alittle bit."

As the bay flashed across the top of arise two miles beyond the Dogsoldier,Loudon glimpsed two specks four miles

ahead.

"Block! He's with Block!" exclaimedLoudon, and drove in the spurs.

The bay leaped madly forward androcketed down the long slope. A high-lipped swell concealed the two specks,and for a long ten minutes Loudon rodebetween the sides of the draw. The baycharged at the high-lipped swell withundiminished vigour. He was doing hislevel best, but his gait was tied in. It borenot the remotest resemblance to Ranger'sfree-swinging stride. When Loudonreached the crest of the swell the speckshad vanished.

He put the reins between his teeth and

drew the Winchester from the scabbardunder his left leg. He threw down thelever a trifle. There was a cartridge in thechamber.

The loading gate resisted the pressure ofhis thumb. There was at least onecartridge in the magazine, but by theweight of the rifle he judged it to be fullyloaded. Loudon returned the Winchester toits scabbard and slowed the willing littlebay to a lope.

"Yo're all right, old hoss," he said, "butyuh can't never catch that hoss o' mine.Not in a million years. We just got to waittill he stops."

Rufe Cutting could have devised no

better revenge than the stealing ofLoudon's horse. Since Loudon had ownedRanger no one save himself and KateSaltoun had ridden him. Ranger's legswere frequently hand-rubbed. Ranger wascurried. With his fingers—no truehorseman would dream of using the combof commerce—Loudon frequently combedRanger's mane and tail. When a horse inthe cow country is curried and combed,that horse is a highly valued horse. JohnnyRamsay accused Loudon of wrappingRanger in blankets when the air waschilly, and of taking his temperature on alloccasions. Undoubtedly Loudon wassomewhat of a crank where Ranger wasconcerned.

And now the inconceivable had come to

pass. Ranger had been stolen—stolenalmost under the very nose of his master.Loudon did not swear. His feeling was toodeeply grim for that. But he promisedhimself an accounting—a very fullaccounting.

Loudon rode onward at a steady lope.Before him stretched the dusty ribbon oftrail. Blank and bare it led between thelow hills and lifted over the ridges. Hesaw no more specks ahead. The quarryhad outdistanced him.

Fifteen miles out of Paradise Bend heheard a faint shout in his rear. He lookedover his shoulder. A half mile distant twomen were galloping toward him. One ofthem waved an arm half red, half blue.

"Scotty," muttered Loudon, and checkedhis horse.

The two clattered up, their horses' out-blown nostrils whistling. One of the menwas the owner of the Flying M. The otherwas the proprietor of the Chicago Store.

"Seen him?" demanded Scotty.

"Once," replied Loudon. "He's ridin'with Block now, but they pulled awayfrom me. I ain't seen 'em for over a hour."

"They're stickin' to the trail," grunted thestore proprietor, who rejoiced in the nameof Ragsdale, glancing at the hoof-marks inthe dust.

"C'mon!" snapped Scotty Mackenzie.

Three miles farther on Ragsdale's mountbegan to falter.

"He's done," growled Ragsdale. "Give'em one for me."

Ragsdale halted. Loudon and ScottyMackenzie rode on.

"Where did yuh get that bay?" queriedScotty, eying the Flying M brand on thebay's hip.

"It was his—Cutting's," replied Loudon.

"Cutting's? Djuh mean Rufe Cutting isthe hoss thief?"

"Shore! I clean forgot yuh didn't knowabout Cutting's quittin' his job."

Loudon explained the manner of thecook's departure and his subsequentactions to Mackenzie.

"An'," said Loudon, in conclusion, "Iseen that feller at the 88 that time I boughtmy hoss from Blakely."

"Yuh did! Are yuh shore?"

"Shore as yo're a day old. I was walkin'past the bunkhouse with Blakely, an' thisfellah was out in front with his shirt off a-washin' himself, an' I seen a eagle tattooedon his chest in blue, an' underneath a heartwith a R on one side an' a T on the other.Just before yore cook pulled his freight hisshirt got tore, an' I seen his chest, an' therewas the eagle an' the heart an' the two

letters R an T. I knowed when I first laideyes on him up here at the Flyin' M that I'dseen him some'ers, but I couldn't placehim till I seen the tattoo-work. It all comeback to me then."

"What was his name at the 88?"

"I never knowed. I never cut his trailagain down there. He wasn't one o' thereg'lar outfit. I know all o' them."

"Did Cap'n Burr see him?"

"No, he didn't. I remember now, whenthe Cap'n come this fellah wasn't in sight,an' he didn't show up again while we wasthere. Cap'n Burr left when I did."

"Cutting worked for me nigh onto a year.

He's always earned his pay. Never donenothin' out of the way."

"I dunno what it means. It's all a heapmysterious—special mysterious when yuhcome to think o' what O'Leary asked mewhen I first hit the Bend. 'Couldn't Samcome?' says O'Leary to me. Busts out intothe street to say it, too, right after I'd askedyuh the way to Cap'n Burr's house."

"I remember," said Scotty, thoughtfully."I seen him talkin' to yuh. I thought yuhknowed him. I wonder who he took yuhfor?"

"One o' Blakely's outfit, o' course,"replied Loudon. "It was that 88 brand o'Ranger's done the trick for him like it done

for you. 'Couldn't Sam come?' says he.Then he says, 'It's all right. I'm PeteO'Leary!' When he seen I didn't understandhim none, he got gun-shy immediate an'wandered. An' he didn't forget me a littlebit. Telescope told me that he'd been tryin'to find out if you'd hired me. One day hecome out to the ranch an' stopped just longenough to say howdy. Wanted to makeshore I was there, see? What do yuh makeof it?"

"Nothin'—yet. We got to wait an' seewhat happens."

"Seein' what happens may be expensive.I tell yuh flat, Scotty, Sam Blakely has gotsomethin' under the table for yuh. He'saimin' to put a crimp in yuh. Yuh can go

the limit on that."

"There ain't nothin' certain about it."

"O' course there ain't. Sam ain't goin' togive himself away. I wish you'd let meInjun 'round some an' see what's up. Ithink, maybe, yuh'll save money if yuh do."

"Well, I dunno——" hesitated Scotty.

"O' course," said Loudon, quickly,"Blakely's got it in for me. But whateverhe's cookin' up for you he thought ofbefore I ever rode north. My comin' northhas sort of upset his plans. He knows Iknow all about him, an' he wants to shutmy mouth before he turns his bull loose."

"Yo're goin' to meet him in Farewell,

ain't yuh? Seems to me Richie saidsomethin' about it."

"Shore I am, but what's that got to dowith it?"

"Why, maybe that's the reason he wantsyuh out of the way. He may not hankerafter shootin' it out with yuh."

"No, Sam Blakely ain't afraid," deniedLoudon. "He wouldn't object any tomeetin' me in Farewell if that was allthere was to it. No, what's worryin' him isme bein' here at the Flying M. An' it'sworryin' him a lot, or he'd never 'a' sentBlock two hundred miles."

"Well, I dunno. Yuh may be right, Tom,

but I don't just guess Sam Blakely will tryto put any crimps in me. He knows itwould come kind o' high. Of course it'smighty puzzlin'. I don't understand it none.One thing, Blakely shore tried his best toget yuh down on the Lazy River, an' that'swhy it looks to me like Block was sent toput in the last licks."

"He was, but not the way yuh think. Icould gas my head off about Blakely uphere in the Bend, an' it wouldn't matter a—— so long as he was down on the Lazy.But if he left the Lazy an' come projeckin'up to the Bend, then what I'd be sayin'would count a lot. See now?"

"I see," admitted Scotty.

"Well, gimme a chance to find out whathe's up to."

"No, Tom, there's too much to do at theranch. I can't let yuh go. Yo're too good aman. I need yuh right at home. We'll waitan' see what happens. Then we'll knowwhat to do."

"It may be too late then," grumbledLoudon.

"If it is, then blame me. I'm the one tolose, anyway."

"Yuh shore are."

Oh, the denseness of ranch owners! WasScotty Mackenzie to turn out anotherSaltoun?

"It's a blind trail," observed Scotty,picking up the tangled thread of theirdiscourse. "Some things kind o' fit whenyuh look at 'em one way, an' then againthey don't when yuh look at 'em another.Cutting don't fit, none whatever. All thetime he worked for me, he only went totown twice, an' the last time was sixmonths ago. O'Leary never come to seehim, so if somethin's up like yuh say thereis, Rufe's out of it. But that won't help himnone now. He'll go out if we ever come upwith him."

"If we do," supplemented Loudon.

"My idea exactly. That hoss o' yores canshore wriggle along, an' he had a bigstart."

"I'm goin' through to Rocket anyhow."

"Me, too."

Till the latter half of the afternoon theykept the ponies loping. Then, slowing to awalk, they risked a short-cut and did notstrike the trail again till the sun wassetting.

"Still keepin' together," announcedLoudon, after one look at the trail.

"An' still hittin' the high places," saidScotty. "Them two cayuses shore havebottom. Cutting knowed a good hoss allright."

CHAPTER XI

ROCKET

The two men reached Rocket beforemidnight and rode up to the door of the

combination saloon and hotel. WhileScotty hammered on the planks with hisfist, Loudon uttered stentorian yells.Rocket, male and female, awoke, pokedtheir heads out of the windows and shrillydemanded information.

"Hoss thief!" bawled Loudon. "He'sridin' a long-legged chestnut with a whitespot on his nose! Fellah with him on ablack horse! The sport on the black may ormay not be dressed like a bird, accordin'to whether he's washed himself! Have yuhseen 'em?"

Rocket with one voice assured Loudonthat he was drunk, and advised thewatering-trough.

"I ain't foolin'," expostulated Loudon."The gent on the black cayuse, which hisname is Block, Sheriff o' Fort CreekCounty, was tarred an' feathered inParadise Bend this afternoon."

Partisan Rocket cheered, and, in thesame breath, grieved that neither of thefugitives had been seen and clamoured toknow details of the tarring and feathering.Rocket was in Sunset County, and it wasdelightful to hear that Fort Creek, in theperson of its sheriff, had been insulted.

Loudon, sitting at ease on his weary,drooping-headed pony, told the tale. Hecarefully refrained, however, frommentioning his own leading part in theaffair. Rocket received the story with

howls of mirth. Later, the male portionstuffed its nightshirts into trousers, pulledon boots, and gathered three deep aroundLoudon and Scotty while the twodevoured cold beef and beans in thedining room of the hotel.

"Glad to see yo're feelin' better overyore hoss," observed Scotty, when the lastRocketer had departed.

"Oh, I made 'em laugh," said Loudon,dismally. "But it didn't make me feel likelaughin' myself a little bit. I feel just asbad as ever—worse if anythin'. Why,Scotty, that hoss could do everythin' buttalk."

"Shore," said Scotty, hastily, "but we

can't do nothin' now. We've done all wecould. They didn't come through Rocket,that's certain. They've done turned offsome'ers. We can't trail 'em to-night, an'by to-morrow they'll be forty mile off.There's no use in keepin' it up."

Scotty looked anxiously at Loudon. Thelatter made no reply. He was staring at thelamp on the table, his expression bitter inthe extreme.

"Tell yuh what," hazarded Scotty. "Yuhcan have that bay yo're ridin'. He ain't likeyore reg'lar hoss, but he's a good pony.Look at the way he went to-day. Gotbottom, that hoss has. Go till the Gulf o'Mexico freezes solid."

"That's right good o' yuh, Scotty, but Icouldn't take him off yuh thataway. I mightbuy him some day."

"The offer goes as it lays. Yuh don'thave to buy him. He's yores whenever yuhwant him. Well, what are yuh figurin' ondoin'?"

"It's no use chasin' 'em any more now. Iknow that. Might as well wander backwhere we come from. Later, two or threeweeks maybe, I'm goin' south."

"Goin' south!" Scotty was aghast. He didnot wish to lose his best man.

"Yep. Goin' south. Don't expect to findCutting first off. But I'll find Block, an' I

guess he'll know somethin' about friendCutting. I'd go instanter, only I want togive Block time to get back an' get settledbefore I pay him a call. I tell yuh, Scotty, Iwant that hoss o' mine, an' I'll get him backif it takes me the rest o' my life!"

"You gents want beds?" inquired thelandlord, suddenly appearing in thedoorway.

"Shore," replied Scotty. "Two of 'em."

"Say, who's the postmaster here?"Loudon asked.

"Me," was the landlord's weary reply.

"A couple o' days ago," said Loudon, "aletter addressed to John Doubleday in

Paradise Bend was mailed here.Remember who mailed it?"

"Couldn't say, stranger," yawned thelandlord. "Oh, shore," he added, asLoudon looked incredulous, "I could tellyuh everybody else what mailed mail forthe last month. But that one letter Icouldn't. I didn't see the man, woman,child, or Injun what mailed it. Three daysago when I got up in the mornin' an' wentoutside to wash my face I done found thatletter an' two bits a-layin' on the door-step. That's all. Just a letter an' two bits. Iclamps on a stamp an' sends her alongwhen the up-stage pulls in."

"Any parties from the Bend in town thatday, or the day before?"

"Nary a party as I knows of—but then Iain't got eyes all over me. Some sportmight 'a' slid through an' me not know it."

"I ain't askin' questions just to maketalk," said Loudon, sharply. "So if yuhain't got no real serious objections I'll aska couple more."

"No need to get het, stranger," soothedthe landlord. "No need to get het. Askaway."

"Any strangers been in town lately?"

"Two, to-day. They're the only strangersI've seen for quite a spell, an' they'reupstairs now. Lady an' gent they are,travellin' separate. Goin' to the Bend, I

reckon. Yest'day the off hind wheel o' thestage dished down at Lew's Gully, an' shecome in on three wheels an' half acottonwood. Passengers had to stay overtill Whisky Jim rustled him a new wheel.Whisky'll pull out in the mornin'."

"Who's the gent?"

"Drummer. Dunno his name."

"Didn't Block—you know, Sheriff Blocko' Fort Creek—didn't he stop here a dayor two ago? He must 'a' come throughRocket."

"Shore he did. But he ain't no stranger. Isee him as many as two or three times ayear. Shore he come through Rocket. He

had a drink here day before yest'day.Goin' to the Bend, he said."

"Well, if he stops on his way back tellhim Tom Loudon was askin' for him. Oldfriend o' mine, the sheriff is. Just tell himyuh know me, an' he'll set 'em up for thewhole town."

"I expect," grinned the landlord. "Wasyou wantin' beds, gents?"

"That's us," grunted Scotty. "Me, I'masleep from the neck down. Show me thatbed, Mister."

Loudon, sitting on the edge of his sway-backed cot, pulled off his boots, droppedthem clattering on the floor, and looked

across at Scotty Mackenzie.

"Block didn't send that letter—or writeit," he said, sliding his long body underthe blanket.

"How do yuh know?" came in muffledtones from Scotty.

"He ain't got the brains. No sir, somegent in Paradise Bend sent that letter, an' Ithink I know his name."

"Who is he?" Scotty was plainly strivingto keep awake, and making a poor job ofit.

"I'll tell yuh after we get back to theBend."

Next morning, while the east was yetlemon and gray, the thunderous clamour ofa beaten dish-pan reverberated through thehotel. The hideous din ceased abruptly,and the voice of the landlord becameaudible.

"Yuh half-witted idjit! Don't yuh knowbetter'n to beat that pan when there's alady in the house? Dish-pans is forcommon folks, an' don't yuh forget it! Nowyou hump yoreself upstairs an' bang on herdoor right gentle an' tell her the stage isdue to pull out in a hour."

"Must be a real lady," commentedLoudon, when a door at the other end of

the corridor had been duly rapped upon.

"Must be," said Scotty in a singularlyjoyless tone. "Yuh couldn't hear what shesaid to the feller. Reg'lar female ladiesalways talk so yuh got to ask 'em to say itagain, they carry fancy-colouredumbrellas when the sun shines, an' theypack their gold specs on the end of a stick.They watch yuh eat, too. I know 'em. Yuhbet I do.

"I met a pair of 'em once when they wasvisitin' at the Seven Lazy Seven. Theymade me so nervous a-lookin' at me that Icut the roof o' my mouth three times withmy knife. Reg'lar ladies don't make mefeel to home nohow. I'm goin' down nowan' eat before this one scampers in an'

spoils my appetite."

So saying, Scotty almost ran from theroom, buckling on his cartridge-belt as hewent.

The drummer was at the table when thetwo Flying M men sat down. Animpressive person was the drummer. Hewas known in his own circle as a"perfectly elegant dresser." If the tightestof tight-fitting suits, the gaudiest of shirts,the highest of collars, an explosive cravat,two watch-chains, a bartender's curl, anda perpetual leer made for elegance, thatdrummer was elegant to a degree.

The three had nearly finished breakfastwhen there came a tapping of quick heels

on the stairs. Scotty Mackenzie groaned.The drummer hastily patted his curl andbroadened his leer. Loudon raised hiseyes and gasped audibly. His knife andfork rattled on the plate. For the womanentering the room was Kate Saltoun.

"Good morning, Tom," said Kate,brightly, quite as if she and he, the best offriends, had parted the previous evening.

The nonplussed Loudon mumbledunintelligibly, but accomplished apassable greeting by the time Kate hadseated herself directly opposite. Thedrummer glanced contemptuously atLoudon, and, with a flourish and a killingogle, handed the bread to Kate. MissSaltoun helped herself, nodded casual

thanks, and bestowed a ravishing smile onLoudon.

"I'm awfully glad to see you again,Tom," she declared, buttering her bread."It's just like old times, isn't it?"

Could this smiling young girl be KateSaltoun? Was this the Kate that had calledhim names and broken his heart and drivenhim from the Lazy River? Loudon furtivelypinched himself. The pinch hurt.

It was not all a dream then. KateSaltoun, in the flesh, and separated fromhim by not more than four feet of scalyoilcloth, was actually smiling at him.Words failed Loudon. He could donothing but gaze.

Scotty, fearful of an introduction, oozedfrom the table. The drummer, unused tobeing ignored, fidgeted. He cleared histhroat raucously. He would show thisdumb person in chaps how a gentlemancomports himself in the presence of alady. It was the drummer's first trip West.

"Beautiful day, Miss, beautiful," hesmirked, tilting back in his chair, andrattling his watch-chains. "We shouldhave a quick trip to Paradise Bend. Ourdriver, I understand, has procured anotherwheel, and——"

The full-voiced utterance died abruptly.

For Kate had looked imploringly atLoudon, and Loudon had swung about to

face the drummer. For the first time in hislife the drummer realized how cold, howutterly daunting, a pair of human eyescould be.

"You through?" demanded Loudon.

The drummer endured that disconcertingstare while a man might draw threebreaths. Then his eyelids quivered,dropped, and a curious mottled palloroverspread his countenance. He glancedup, met again that disconcerting stare, andquickly looked elsewhere.

"You through?" repeated Loudon.

"I—I don't know as that's any of yourbusiness," said the drummer, faintly.

"Git out," ordered Loudon.

"Why, look here! By what right——"

"Git out." Loudon had not raised hisvoice.

The drummer glanced at Miss Saltoun.She was crumbling her bread and lookingover his head with an air of intenseboredom. So far as she was concerned, hehad ceased to exist. And she had been sofriendly and companionable on the longride from Farewell.

"You've done kept me waitin' sometime," suggested Loudon, softly.

Awkwardly, for he found his kneesstrangely weak, the drummer rose. With a

lame attempt at jauntiness he pulled downhis vest, shot his cuffs, and teetered fromthe room. He made his way to the bar andcalled for whisky. His nerves were ratherupset.

"Jake's put yore stuff in the stage,"announced the landlord, who was also thebartender.

"Then Jake can take my bags out again,"said the drummer, disagreeably. "I'mstaying over till to-morrow."

"Well, hotel-keepers can't afford to beparticular," the landlord said, unsmilingly."But yuh'll have to unload yore truck yoreown self."

The drummer would have enjoyedcursing the landlord. But the latter had thesame peculiar look about the eyes thatLoudon had. The drummer went out intothe street, thinking evil thoughts of theseunamiable Westerners.

Kate, when the drummer left the room,smiled sweetly upon Loudon. It was hisreward for ridding her of a pest. She didnot know that Loudon's prime reason forsquelching the drummer was practicallythe same reason that impels the averageman, on receiving an unpleasant surprise,to throw things at the cat.

"How's Johnny Ramsay gettin' along?"

inquired Loudon.

"He has completely recovered," Katereplied. "He went back to the Cross-in-a-box four days ago."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it."

Paying no further attention to Kate,Loudon calmly proceeded to finish hisbreakfast. Kate began to find the silencepainful.

"Why, Tom," said she, "aren't you even alittle bit glad to see me?"

"Why should I be glad?" parriedLoudon.

"You're not very polite, Tom. You—you

make me feel very badly. Why, oh, why doyou persist in making it so hard for me?"

Kate's voice was pitched low, and therewas a running sob in it. But Loudon wasnot in the least affected.

"Last time I seen yuh," Loudon stated,deliberately, "yuh told me flat yuh neverwanted to see me again. Yuh was engagedto Sam Blakely, too. I don't understand yuha little bit."

"Perhaps you will when I explain. Yousee, I am no longer engaged to Mr.Blakely."

"Yo're lucky."

"I think so myself. Under the

circumstances, can't we be friends again?I didn't mean what I said, boy. Truly Ididn't."

Loudon was looking at Kate, but he didnot see her as she sat there in her chair,her black eyes imploring. Instead, he sawher as she appeared that day in the kitchenof the Bar S, when she wiped his kissfrom her mouth and ordered him to leaveher.

"Yo're too many for me," he said at last."I dunno what yo're drivin' at. But if yuhwant to be friends, why, I'm the last fellahin the world to be yore enemy. Yuh know Inever have exactly disliked yuh, Kate.Well, I got to be weavin' along. Glad tohave seen yuh, Kate. I'll see yuh later,

maybe."

"Of course you will, Tom. I'll be at Lil's—Mrs. Mace, you know, at the Bend. Youwill come and see me, won't you?"

"Shore I will, an' glad to."

Loudon dropped the lady's hand as if ithad been a hot iron, and departed. He hadno intention of going near the house ofMrs. Mace. He never wanted to see KateSaltoun again.

In the street he found Scotty nervouslyawaiting him.

"Git yore hoss," said Scotty, "an' let's gitout o' here."

"What's all the hurry?" queried Loudon.

"That female girl in the hotel. She'll beout in a minute, an' then yuh'll have tointroduce me."

"She's Kate Saltoun, Scotty."

"Old Salt's daughter! It don't soundpossible. An' him with a face like agrizzly. She's shorely four aces, Tom, an'as pretty as a little red wagon. But I ain'taimin' to make her acquaintance, an' yuhcan gamble on that."

Happily for Scotty's peace of mind heand Loudon left Rocket twenty minutesahead of the stage.

The drummer watched the departure of

the stage with brooding eyes. When thedust in the street had settled he hadanother drink at the bar and ensconcedhimself in a corner of the barroom wherehe could glower unobserved at thelandlord.

The latter had gone to the corral, but thedrummer was still sitting in his chair,when, toward noon, two men entered.They were unprepossessing individuals,both of them, though one, the tall man withthe black beard, had obviously justwashed himself thoroughly. Even hisclothing had been scrubbed.

The drummer sniffed inquiringly. Whatwas that elusive odour—that strange smellor rather mixture of smells? The drummer

sniffed again.

"Got a cold?" growled the black-bearded man.

"No," said the drummer, sulkily.

"Then don't snuffle. I don't like snufflin',I don't. It makes me jumpy, snufflin' does.Breathe through yore mouth if yuh got to."

The look which the black-avisedindividual bent upon the drummer was notreassuring. The wretched drummer shrankinto himself and took care to breathe in aninoffensive manner. The black-beardedman was extremely sensitive about thatodour, for it emanated from his ownperson and habiliments. Tobacco smoke

had no effect upon it. It clung after thefashion of loving relations. Strong soap,scorched molasses, and singed feathers,had given birth to that odour. No wonderhe was sensitive!

His companion, whose face borenumerous scratches, stared round thebarroom.

"Where's the barkeep?" he grunted.

"Don't need no barkeep," announced theblack-bearded man, and started to walkround the bar.

"Don't yuh?" inquired the voice of thelandlord. "Yuh got another guess comin'.Yuh can't run no blazers in this shack,

Block, an' that goes."

The eyes of the black-bearded manglowed evilly. He stopped in his tracks,his raised hand halted in the act ofreaching for a bottle. He stared at thelandlord standing in the doorway. Thelandlord stared back, his thumbs hookedin his belt.

"Get us a drink then," snarled Block, andhe joined his friend in front of the bar.

"That's what I'm here for," rejoined thelandlord, cheerfully. "I don't care who Iserve. Why, I give that a drink awhileago." He flicked a contemptuous thumb atthe drummer.

"Hurry up!" admonished Block.

"No hurry," chirruped the landlordinsultingly. "I never was in a hurry, an' Iain't goin' to begin now. What'll yuh have—milk?"

"Say," exclaimed the man with thescratched face, "are you lookin' fortrouble?"

"Stranger," replied the landlord, turninga pair of calm brown eyes on hisquestioner—"stranger, a gent don't neverlook for trouble. It comes to himunexpected-like. But none ain't comin' tome to-day. Soon as I seen you twotinhorns in here I told a friend o' mine.He's a-watchin' yuh from the window right

now."

Block and his friend involuntarily turnedtheir heads. Framed in the open windowwere the head and shoulders of a man. Inhis hands was a sawed-off shotgun. Theblunt muzzle gaped ominously at them.

"Well, by Gawd!" began the scratch-faced man.

"Shut up!" said Block. "These folksseem scared of us. No use fussin'. We'lljust licker an' git."

"Them's the words I like to hear,"observed the landlord, slapping bottle andglasses on the bar. "Yuh can't pull out tooquick to suit me, Block. I know about yore

goin's-on down in Farewell—rubbin' outharmless strangers. Yuh may be a sheriffan' all that, but yore office don't travel afoot in Sunset County."

"Yuh talk big," growled Block. "Yuhneedn't think yuh can bluff me. If I feel liketakin' this town apart, I'll do it."

"Shore, just like yuh took the Bend apart.Got the molasses out o' yore system yet?"

Block's eyes were fairly murderous. Thelandlord grinned.

"That shotgun's double-barrelled," heobserved. "Buckshot in each barrel."

Block gulped his whisky. The scratch-faced man had finished his drink and was

placidly rolling a cigarette.

"Never did like to quarrel," heremarked, "special not with a shotgun.Mister"—to the landlord—"have anygents from the Bend rode in to-day—oryesterday?"

"Lookin' for friends?" queried thelandlord.

"Shore!"

"I thought so. Well, I can't tell yuh. Yuhsee, I ain't right well acquaintedhereabouts. I dunno everybody. Theremight somebody 'a' come through, an' thenagain there mightn't. I seed a Injunyest'day, though. Looked like a Digger.

Might he be yore partic'lar friend?" Anexquisite solicitude was in the landlord'stone.

The other refused to take offence. Hesmiled wryly. When he spoke, his wordswere without rancour.

"I can't claim the Injun. I was thinkin' ofa sport named Loudon. Know him?"

"I told yuh I didn't know many peopleround here."

"I was just a-wonderin'. I was kind o'anxious to see Loudon."

"Well, I dunno nothin' about him."

"There was a man here named Loudon,"

piped up the drummer, perceiving anopportunity of annoying the landlord. "Hestayed here all night. Another man waswith him, a very dirty old character namedMackenzie. I think Scotty was his firstname."

"Which way did they go?" demandedBlock.

"They rode away toward ParadiseBend."

"That drummer can lie faster'n a hosscan trot," drawled the landlord.

"You know they stayed here all night,"said the drummer with a flash of spirit. "Ihad breakfast with them."

The landlord walked swiftly to thedrummer, who quailed.

"Yo're lyin'!" announced the landlord."Say so. Say yo're lyin', yuh pup, or I'llpull yore neck in half."

"I'm lyin'!" cried the drummer, hastily."I'm lyin'."

"There wasn't nobody here but you, wasthere?" inquired the landlord.

"N-no."

"I guess that's enough. You see howreliable this sport is, gents. Can't believea word he says."

Block turned toward the door. The

scratch-faced man winked at his ownreflection in the mirror behind the bar andstuck his tongue in his cheek.

"C'mon," said Block.

The sheriff and his friend went out intothe street. The landlord followed, hisexpression one of pleasurableanticipation. Four citizens of Rocket,grouped on the sidewalk, glumly watchedthe two men as they swung into theirsaddles and loped away. The landlord'sface fell.

"Say," he demanded, "why didn't yuharrest him?"

"Couldn't be did," replied the largest of

the quartette, who wore a marshal's staron his vest. "Loudon said his hoss was achestnut, white spot on nose, didn't he?One o' them two cayuses was a black, butthe other was a bald-face pinto. Nothin'like a chestnut."

"But Loudon done said the hoss thiefwas ridin' with Sheriff Block."

"That's all true enough, an' the party a-ridin' off with Block may be a hoss thief,but if he is, he ain't ridin' Loudon's hoss.An' Loudon's hoss is the only one weknow about. Got to go by the hoss, Dave."

"Why, looky here, Sim, Loudondescribed the feller right plain. That'sRufe Cutting a-ridin' away there with

Block, or I'm a Dutchman."

"He may be," returned the marshal,equably, "an' if Loudon was here an' couldidentify him I'd grab him too quick. Butunless he's ridin' a chestnut hoss with awhite spot on his nose I can't arrest himwithout a warrant. An' there ain't nowarrant. See how it is, Dave?"

"Oh, I see all right," mourned thelandlord, "an' it makes me sick. Soon as Iseen 'em come in my place I says tomyself, 'Here's that hoss thief.' All Ithought of was that Loudon said the sportwas with Block. It makes me sick. It shoredoes. After me a-cookin' it all up with youto arrest him! C'mon in an' have somethin',an' watch me give that drummer the

prettiest lickin' he ever had in his life."

CHAPTER XII

SCOTTY ADVISES

When Loudon and Scotty reachedParadise Bend, they separated, Scottygoing to the Burrs', while Loudon strolledleisurely about the streets. Loudon visitedall the saloons and drew into conversationthe bartenders and other prominentcitizens. In less than an hour he met Scottybehind the Burr corral.

"Five days ago an' early in the mornin',"said Loudon, "a Seven Lazy Seven boymet O'Leary ridin' the trail to the Flyin' M.O'Leary told him, an' it wasn't nonenecessary, that he was goin' to SuckerCreek. That's away north a good eightymile.

"Well, that same day in the evenin' afreighter, camped on the trail half-waybetween the Bend and Rocket, seenO'Leary a-peltin' south. The freighter onlygot a flash at him by the light of his fire,but he knowed him all right, an' hehollered a howdy. O'Leary never notices.Just leans over his horn an' keeps a-foggin'right along. There yuh have it—the Flyin'M trail in the mornin', an' twenty-five milesouth o' the Bend in the evenin'. Now who

mailed that letter?"

"It looks like O'Leary," admitted Scotty."But what yuh goin' to do about it? Yuhcan't do nothin', Tom. I tell yuh, yuh got towait. Now don't yuh go projeckin' roundO'Leary an' kick up any fuss. It won't dono good, an' yuh might reap some lead.Yo're needed at the ranch, Tom. Just youkeep that in mind."

"Don't fret. I ain't goin' to say nothin' toO'Leary—yet. I'll give him plenty o' ropeto hang himself with. But I wish you'd letme Injun round some, Scotty. Gimme twoweeks, now. Yuh won't regret it."

"Now, Tom, there yuh go again. I needyuh to home, I tell yuh."

"Oh, all right; have it yore own way. Butif yuh won't gimme the two weeks now,I'll take 'em later on my own account. Iaim to get my hoss back."

"We'll talk about that later," said Scotty."You go on in an' see Dorothy. Y'ought tobe ashamed o' yoreself—stickin' out herewhen there's a pretty little girl like that inthe house."

"Thought yuh didn't like ladies any."

"Depends on the lady. There's brands an'brands, Tom. But that little girl o' theCap'n's—well, say, she always makes agent feel right to home. Wish I wasyounger. Yes, sir, I shore wish I didn'thave so many rings on my horns. I'd have

you boys runnin' in circles, I would. Go onin now, Tom, an' if yuh work it right Mis'Burr'll ask yuh to grub."

Loudon went.

"Just in time for supper," was Mrs.Burr's greeting. "Dorothy's out front. PeteO'Leary's here again. He's stayin' tosupper, too. Thank Heaven, I'll have acrowd for once. I do enjoy seein' folkseat. Say, Tom," she added, lowering hervoice, "is O'Leary a friend o' yores?"

"I know his name, Mis' Burr," saidLoudon, "an' that's about all."

"Well, I was just wonderin'. I dunnowhether to like that fellah or not. He

strikes me as bein' conceited a lot. Healways acts to me like he thought everygirl he knowed was in love with him. He'sgood-lookin' an' all that, but I don't cottonto his eyes. They look as if they washoldin' somethin' back all the time. Seewhat I mean? Like he was sayin' one thingan' thinkin' another."

"I see," Loudon nodded. He understoodperfectly.

"He ain't never hung round Dorothy tilllately. But yuh can't say nothin', I s'pose.Still—oh, well, no use chatterin' about it."

Loudon wondered whether Scotty hadknown O'Leary was in the house when heurged Loudon to go in and see Dorothy.

The presence of O'Leary did not forecastan enjoyable meal.

"I just come in for a drink, Mis' Burr,"said Loudon. "I wish I could stay forsupper. Thank yuh kindly, all the same, butI got to see a man down street."

"Huh," grunted Mrs. Burr, skeptically."Yuh don't like O'Leary neither, do yuh?"

"I didn't say nothin' about that, ma'am."

"No, o' course not. Yuh can't fool me,Tom Loudon. There's cool water in thatcovered pail. Say, it's too bad about thathoss o' yores. Scotty told me yuh didn'thave no luck in Rocket. It shore is too bad.He was a right good hoss."

"He is a good hoss, ma'am. He ain't agoner yet, by a jugful. I'll get him back."

"I hope so, an' I hope yuh lynch the thief,or shoot him anyway. He hadn't ought tolive a minute. The Flyin' M cook, too. Yuhcan't hardly believe it."

Loudon got his drink and departed. Ashe rode past the house he saw Dorothy andO'Leary sitting on the doorstep. Dorothywaved her hand and smiled. O'Learypositively beamed. Had Loudon been hisoldest friend O'Leary's greeting could nothave been more cordial.

"Now I'd like to know," thought Loudon,as he rode down the street, "what licensehe's got to be so cheerful. Is it 'cause I

ain't stayin' to supper, or is it 'cause he'sgot some other card up his sleeve?"

"Why didn't you stay to supper?"chuckled Scotty, when Loudon droppedinto the chair next him at the hotel dining-table.

"I couldn't stand it to be away from youso long," retorted Loudon, and helpedhimself generously to the butter.

"I kind o' thought it might be that way.Try them pickles. They taste like they'dbeen used for tannin' saddles."

Night had not yet fallen when Loudonand Scotty started for the Flying M. Asthey passed the house of Big Jim Mace,

Scotty groaned.

"Here comes that female girl o' OldSalt's," he whispered, perturbedly. "She'sheadin' our way. She's a-callin' to yuh,Tom! She's a-callin' to yuh! I'm goin' on.I'll wait for yuh on the trail."

There was no disregarding Kate Saltoun.She had even stepped out into the street inher efforts to attract Loudon's attention.Scotty loped onward, and Loudon twistedhis horse toward the sidewalk.

"Well," said Kate, smiling up at him,"you are a nice one! I believe you'd havepassed right by without speaking if I hadn'tcalled to you. Come on in and see Mrs.Mace and me. Jim's down street, and we

want someone to talk to."

"Just someone?"

Loudon could have bitten his tongue offfor uttering this flirty remark. But for thelife of him he could not help saying it.

Kate smiled.

"Someone would probably do for Lil,"she said, "but I want you. I've an awful lotto tell you, Tom."

"I can't, Kate. Honest, I'd like to come inan' see yuh a lot. I shore would. But I gotto ride out to the ranch with ScottyMackenzie."

"Is that funny old person with the parti-

coloured sleeve Scotty Mackenzie? I'veheard Dad speak of him. They never likedeach other, I believe. Bring him over, I'dlike to meet him. Then he can talk to Lil."

"That'd be fine, but yuh see Scotty's in ahurry to get back to the ranch. I'm afraidwe couldn't manage it nohow."

Kate's face fell. Loudon glanced up andsaw Dorothy Burr and Pete O'Learyapproaching. Interest, polite in Dorothy'scase, speculative in O'Leary's, wasmanifest in their expressions. Kate movedcloser to Loudon and laid a hand on theneck of his horse.

"Tom," she whispered, "I just heardwhat Block tried to do. Lil told me. You

don't believe I had anything to do with it,do you?"

"Why, no, o' course I don't."

"Are you sure?"

"Why, Kate, I know you couldn't do athing like that. Don't yuh think any moreabout it."

"I believe you do, just the same. Tom, nomatter how much I disliked a person Iwouldn't betray him."

"I believe yuh. Honest, I do."

Dorothy and O'Leary passing at thisjuncture, Loudon lifted his hat. Kate turnedand looked after the pair. When her eyes

once more met Loudon's there was a fainttrouble in their black depths.

"Who are they?" she queried.

"Cap'n Burr's daughter an' PeteO'Leary."

"Oh." There was deep meaning in that"oh."

"She lives up yonder a ways. Mis' Maceknows her, I guess."

"How nice! Perhaps I shall meet her. Ishould like to, really. Tell me, do youknow her well?"

"Not very well. Yuh see, I ain't in townsuch a lot. Say, Kate, did Mis' Mace write

an' tell yuh I was up here at the Bend?"

"Yes, I believe she did." Kate's tone wasingenuous. But the quick upward fling ofher eyes was not.

"Did yuh tell yore father an' the boys?"

"Why, I don't remember, Tom. I mighthave. Very possibly I did. Why?"

"I was just a-wonderin'."

"You mean——" gasped Kate, her eyeswidening with genuine horror.

At first, misinterpreting the trend of hisquestioning, she had believed himbrazenly fishing. Now she understood thesignificance underlying his words. She

wanted to scream. But half the street waswatching them. Underlip caught betweenher teeth, she sucked in her breath.Piteously her eyes searched Loudon'sface.

"Tom!" she breathed. "Tom! You dothink I betrayed you after all. Oh, Tom,Tom!"

It was Loudon's turn to be distressed.

"Yo're on the wrong trail, Kate," hesoothed. "I know yuh didn't tell Block orthe 88 outfit. But if the Bar S boys knowedI was up here it could easy get around.Richie o' the Cross-in-a-box an' Cap'nBurr knowed, too. They might 'a' let it out.I'm sorry I asked yuh if it makes yuh feel

that way."

"Oh, I see it now. I must have told. Andit was my telling that sent Block up here.Tom, if he had taken you south and—andanything had happened, it—it would havekilled me. Life just wouldn't have beenworth living any longer."

Was ever mortal man in a similarpredicament? Here was a beautifulwoman baring her heart to him in broaddaylight on a public thoroughfare. Coldprickles raced madly up and downLoudon's spine. What could he say? Hehad a wild impulse to whirl his horse andgallop after Scotty. Obviously this was thesafer course to follow. Weakly hetemporized.

"Kate, do yuh know what yo're sayin'?"

"Of course. Why shouldn't I say it? Ilove you, don't you know that? There, it'sout! I suppose I ought to be ashamed ofmyself, but I'm not. I'm glad."

Throughout the latter part of theconversation Kate had barely spokenabove a whisper, but to Loudon it seemedthat she fairly shouted. He was positivethat all the town had heard. His dismayedeyes slid round. He half-expected to seeMrs. Mace and her neighbours craningtheir necks with their hands cupped roundtheir ears. But Mrs. Mace was not visible,and the score of people in view were notdisplaying undue interest. Loudonbreathed more easily.

"Yuh—yuh——" he stammered, his facebeet-red. "Yuh hadn't ought to 'a' saidthat."

"Why not?" she demanded, coolly. "It'strue."

Her self-possession was extraordinary.She was not even blushing. This was aKate that Loudon did not know. In the faceof her bald assertion he could not tell herthat matters had completely changed; thathe loved her no longer. No, not that. Herealized his disadvantage acutely, andsquirmed. Kate looked expectant. He mustsay something, and quickly, too, or shewould propose to him on the spot.

"I—I got to be goin'!" he exclaimed,

desperately. "Scotty's waitin' for me. Gug-gug-good-bye."

"Good-bye, Tom," said Kate, with aradiant smile. "I'll see you some othertime."

"Some other time!" groaned Loudon, ashe galloped down the street. "Some othertime! She will, too. An' what'll I do?What'll I do? I don't like her any more. Idon't like her a little bit. This is shore onehelluva of a fix!"

"What did she do to yuh?" inquiredScotty, when Loudon joined him.

"Do to me! What do you mean?"

"Yuh look like yuh'd just missed being

hugged to death by a b'ar. No offence,Tom, but yuh sure do look a heapshivery."

"It's them pickles I had for supper,Scotty. I knowed they'd make me sick."

"They was rich, for a fact."

They loped in silence for a half-hour.

"Scotty," said Loudon, suddenly, "ifanybody comes out to the ranch a-lookin'for me, tell 'em I've pulled my freight yuhdunno where."

"Anybody?" Scotty quirked an eyebrow.

"Anybody—man, woman, or child."

"Well, say, look here, Tom!" exclaimedScotty in alarm. "Yuh don't mean to saythat Miss Saltoun girl is a-comin' out tothe Flyin' M."

"I dunno. I hope not."

"Which I hope not, too. She's so good-lookin' she scares me, she does. I don'twant to go nowheres near her, an' I won't,neither. No, sirree. If she ever comes a-traipsin' out to the ranch yuh can do yoreown talkin'."

"Aw, keep yore shirt on. I guess now shewon't come."

"I'll bet she's a-aimin' to, or yuh wouldn't'a' said what yuh did. Yuh can't fool me,

Tom. She'll come, an' she'll bring JimMace's wife along for a chaperon, an'they'll most likely stay for two meals, an'I'll have to grub in the corral. Great notethis is! Druv out o' my own home by acouple o' female women!

"Laugh! It's awful funny! I never couldabide Mis' Mace, either. She's alwaystalkin', talkin'. Talk the hide off a cow, an'not half try. How Jim stands her I can't seenohow. If she was my woman I'd feed herwolf-pizen, or take it myself."

"I guess now yuh never was married,was yuh, Scotty?"

"Me married! Well, I guess not! Comemighty close to it once. I must 'a' been

crazy or drunk, or somethin'—anyway,when I was a young feller over east inMacpherson, Kansas, me an' SueShimmers had it all fixed for hitchin' uptogether. Nice girl, Sue was. Good cook, aheap energetic, an' right pretty in the face.The day before the weddin' Sue cuts stickan' elopes with Tug Wilson, theblacksmith.

"I felt bad for mighty nigh a week, butI've been a heap joyous ever since. Yes,sir, Sue developed a lot after marriage.Why, if Tug took so much as one finger ofold Jordan Sue'd wallop him with a axe-handle. Poor old Tug used to chew up somany cloves he got dyspepsy. Between theaxe-handle an' the dyspepsy Tug had all hecould swing to keep alive. I've never

stopped bein' grateful to Tug Wilson. Hesaved my life. Yes, sir, as a rule, femalesis bad medicine."

"How about Mis' Burr an' her daughter?"

"I said as a general rule. Like I told yuhonce before, Mis' Burr an' Dorothy arereal ladies, all silk an' several yardswide. A gent can talk to them just likefolks. An' Dorothy can have my ranch an'every cayuse on it, includin' my mules, anytime she wants. Nothin's too good for thatlittle girl."

"She's shore a winner."

"She's all o' that. Now there's a girlthat'll make a ace-high wife. She wouldn't

use no axe-handle. She'd understand agent's failin's, she would, an' she'd breakhim off 'em so nice an' easy he wouldn'tknow nothin' about it. Yes, sir, the partythat gets Dorothy Burr needn't worry none'bout bein' happy."

"I guess now there ain't no party realshore-enough fit to make her a husband."

"There ain't. No, sir, yuh can bet thereain't. But she'll marry some no-accounttinhorn—them kind always does. Say, whydon't you make up to her?"

"Well, I would," said Loudon, gravely,"only yuh see it wouldn't be proper. I ain'ta no-account tinhorn."

"You ain't, but O'Leary is."

"It ain't gone as far as that!"

"Yuh never can tell how far anythin'sgone with a woman. Yuh never can tellnothin' about her till it happens. She's aheap unexpected, a female is. Now I don'tsay as Dorothy'd marry yuh, Tom. Yuhmay not be her kind o' feller at all. Butyo're a sight better'n Pete O'Leary."

"Thanks," said Loudon, dryly.

"Then again," rushed on Scotty, deeplyengrossed in his subject, "it ain't nowaysnecessary for yuh to marry her. All yuh gotto do is give O'Leary the run. Chase himoff—see? I've been thinkin' some serious

o' doin' it myself, but I'd have to beef him,an' that wouldn't suit Dorothy. A lady don'tlike it none to have her admirers shot up.It only makes her more set to have 'em.But you, Tom, could go about it in a nice,refined way, an' get Dorothy to likin' yuhbetter'n she does O'Leary, an' there yuhare. No blood's spilt, an' the lady issaved."

"But s'pose she didn't cotton to me for acent?"

"Yuh got to risk that, o' course. But youcan win out over O'Leary, I'll gamble onthat."

"But why am I elected? Why me at all?"

"Well, say, yuh'd ought to be ashamed o'yoreself, raisin' objections thisaway. HereI am, tryin' to help out as nice a little girlas ever breathed, an' yuh got to kick.Selfish, I call it. Can't yuh see I'm tryin' todo you a good turn, too? There's gratitudefor yuh! Well, it's like I always said: Oldfolks is never appreciated, no matter whatthey do. Yes, sir, I might 'a' saved mybreath. Dorothy, she talked just like youdo, only worse."

"What—why, you ain't been talkin' aboutthis to Dor—Miss Burr, have yuh?"demanded Loudon in horror.

"Why, shore I did," said Scotty,placidly. "I feel like a father to her, sowhy not? I didn't say much. I just told her

O'Leary was a pup an' a sheepman an' notfit for her to wipe her feet on, an' whydidn't she take a shine to some other gentfor a change? She says, 'Who, forinstance?' An' I says, 'Tom Loudon,' an'that's as far as I got. She goes up in the airlike a pony, instanter."

"Which I should say she might. You hadyore nerve, ringin' me into it! Ain't yuh gotno sense at all?"

"Lots. Yo're the witless one. If yuh hadany brains yuh'd take my advice."

"I can't now, even if I wanted to."

"Shore yuh can. She spoke to yuh allright this aft'noon, didn't she?"

"Yes, but——"

"Well, I'd given her my opinion o' thingsjust about twenty minutes before yuh metme at the corral. So, yuh see, she wasn'tmad at you. She wasn't really mad at me. Iseen the twinkle in her eye all the time shewas givin' me fits. Why, look here, Tom,when she says, 'Who, for instance?' Icouldn't think o' nobody but you. It wasimpulse, it was, an' impulses are alwaysright. Wouldn't be impulses if they wasn't.

"So there y'are. Yuh don't have to marryeach other if yuh don't want to. Shore not.But yuh'd ought to give each other a whirlanyway. Yuh might hit it off amazin'. I'mbettin' yuh will, I don't care what either o'yuh say."

Loudon, divided between anger andhorrified amazement, was speechless.Scotty Mackenzie was more thanastounding. He was hopelesslyimpossible.

"Well," remarked Loudon, when he wasable to speak, "yuh sure are three kings an'an ace when it comes to other people'sbusiness. Some day, Scotty, yuh'll gobulgin' into the affairs o' some party whodon't understand yore funny little ways, an'he'll hang yore hide on the fence."

"I s'pose likely," said Scotty, glumly. "Itshore is a ungrateful world. But," headded, brightening, "yuh'll do what I say,won't yuh, Tom? I tell yuh I know best.I've sort o' cottoned to yuh ever since I

found out who yuh was an' all, an' Ialways did like Dorothy Burr. Here's you,an' there she is. Why, it's Providence,Tom, Providence; an' nobody has a rightto fly in the face o' Providence. Yuh won'tnever have no luck if yuh do. I ask yuh likea friend, Tom—an' I hadn't ought to haveto ask yuh, not with such a good-looker asDorothy—I ask yuh like a friend to go seethis little girl, an'——"

"An' prove yo're right," interruptedLoudon.

"Well, yes. Though I know I'm right, an' Itell yuh plain if you two don't hook up forkeeps yuh'll be sorry. Yes, sir, yuh will.Now don't say nothin', Tom. Just think itover, an' if yuh want any help come to

me."

"Yuh make me sick. Yuh shore do."

"Think it over. Think it over."

"Think nothin' over! I ain't in love withMiss Burr, an' I ain't a-goin' to be. Yuhcan gamble on that, old-timer. As awoman-wrangler I'm a good hoss an'cowman, an' hereafter from now on I'm a-stickin' to what I know best."

Loudon relapsed into sulky silence. Yetfor the life of him he could not be whollyangry with Scotty Mackenzie. No onecould. Scotty was Scotty, and, whereanother man would have been shot, Scottywent scatheless.

"Slick!" said Scotty, ten minutes afterarriving at the Flying M; "Slick, I guessyes. The feller that wrote that letterknowed my writin' better'n I do myself.Don't blame yuh a mite, Doubleday, forbein' fooled. Don't blame yuh a mite.

"I'll fix this trick for good and all.Hereafter I don't write no more letters toyuh, see? Then if our forgin' brother takeshis pen in hand again it won't do him nogood.... What? No, I'm too sleepy. You godown an' ask Loudon. He was the centre o'curiosity, an' he knows more about thatriot at the Bend than I do."

When Doubleday had gone Scotty

Mackenzie did not act like a personovercome by sleep. He lit a cigarette, sliddown in his chair, and put his feet on thedesk.

"Yo're a great man, Scotty," he chuckled."Yes, sir, I dunno as I ever seen yore like.I didn't know yuh was such a deeplomat.No, sir, I shore didn't."

But Mr. Mackenzie did not realize thatLoudon in his statements regardingpossible affection for Miss Dorothy Burrmeant exactly what he said.

On the corral fence Loudon sat withTelescope Laguerre and related hisadventures. The half-breed hearkenedsympathetically. Occasionally he removed

the cigarette from his lips in order toswear.

"And," said Loudon in conclusion, "I'mgoin' south after the little hoss in two orthree weeks."

"Queet?"

"Yep."

"I queet, too. I go wit' you."

"What for? No need o' you losin' yorejob, too."

"—— de job! I been here long tam—two, t'ree year. I wan' for move along unsee w'at happen een de worl'. Een you'beesness, two gun ees better dan only

wan. Are you me?"

"Oh, I'm you all right enough. I'll be gladto have yuh with me, Telescope, but——"

"Den dat ees settle'," interruptedTelescope, his eyes glittering in the glowof his cigarette. "Wen you go, I go, untogedder we weel geet de leetle hoss. Ah,my frien', eet ees de luck I have you to gowit'. I been knowin' for week now I mus'go soon."

"Gettin' restless?"

Telescope nodded, his eyes fixed on thefar-away line of saw-toothed mountainsblack against the stars. When he spoke, hisvoice had altered.

"Tom, de ole tam have come back to me,un w'en de old tam do dat I can not stay. Imus'—— My frien', have you evair love awoman?"

"Once I did."

"Den you weel understan'. Wan tam,fifteen year ago, I have woman. I haveodder woman now un den—five, sixmabbe, but dey was Enjun un breed. Deeswoman she was not Enjun. She wasFrançaise, un we was marry un leeve overon de Sweetwatair Rivière near deMedicine Mountain.

"Well, we was happy, she un me, un Iwas hunt de buffalo for Ole Man Rantoul.Rantoul she have de post dere on de

Sweetwatair. Dere was odder men keel debuffalo for Rantoul, un wan of dese menshe see my wife Marie w'en she go wit'me to de post. Dees man she yong manname' Taylor—Pony George dey callheem, 'cause she was all tam bust de pony.

"Well, wan tam I go 'way two—t'reeweek, mabbe. I come home een deafternoon. No leetle dog she play 'roun' delog-house. No smoke from de chimeny. NoMarie she stan' at de door.

"I go queeck to de house. Leetle dog liedead in front de door. Door shut. I go een.I fin' Marie—I fin' Marie!" A wild, fiercenote crept into the low monotone. "I fin'my Marie on de floor. She varree weak,but she can talk leetle. She tell me w'at

happen. Two day before I geet back PonyGeorge come to de log-house. PonyGeorge she try for mak' de love to mywife. Marie she go for rifle. Pony Georgegeet de rifle firs'. Dog try for bite heem.Pony George keeck de dog out un shootheem.

"My wife she grab de knife. She fight.But Pony George strong man. Get cutleetle, but not bad. He—he—well, I cando nothin' for my wife. Nex' day she die.

"I ride to de post of Ole Man Rantoul.Pony George not dere. Rantoul say PonyGeorge go 'way t'ree day before—notcome back. I go after Pony George. I notfin' heem. I go sout' to de Nation. I go toDakota. I go all de way from Canaday to

de Rio Grande. Five year I heet de trail,but I never fin' Pony George.

"Now I work on de ranch, but always Ican not stay. W'en de ole tam come back Imus' go. Well, my frien', some day I fin'Pony George, un w'en dat day come I weelhang hees hair on my bridle. Ah, I weelkeel dat man—keel heem slow, so sheweel have plenty tam for see hees deat'before she die."

Abruptly Telescope Laguerre slippeddown to the ground and vanished in thedarkness.

CHAPTER XIII

THE DANCE

A week later, while the outfit was eatingsupper, Swing Tunstall burst yelling intothe bunkhouse. He flung his hat on thefloor and thudded into his seat.

"Dance!" he whooped, hammering on thetable with his knife and fork. "Dance! Bigdance! Down at the Bend. Next week.Saturday night. They're a-goin' to have itin the hotel. Hooray!"

"Pass him the beans, quick!" shoutedDoubleday. "Get him to eatin' before theroof pulls loose. When djuh say it was,Swing?"

"Saturday night, next week. Butter,butter, who's got the grease? An' thecanned cow. That's the stuffy. Say, that'sgonna be a reg'lar elephant of a dance, thatis. They's a new girl in town—I seen her.She's stayin' at Mis' Mace's, an' she's aspretty as a royal flush. Miss Kate Saltounher name is, an' she's from the Bar S downon the Lazy River."

"We'll all go," announced Doubleday.

"You bet we will," said Giant Morton."Swing, where's that necktie o' mine yuhborried last week?—yes, the red one. Youknow the one I mean. You wanted it so'syuh could make a hit with that hash-slingerat the hotel. Can't fool me, yuh old

tarrapin. Where is it?"

"I'll git it for yuh later," gurgled Tunstall,his mouth full. "I don't guess I lost it. Ca'myoreself. Giant, ca'm yoreself. What's anecktie?"

"Don't guess yuh've lost it! Well, I likethat! I paid a dollar six bits for that necktiedown at the Chicago Store. There ain'tanother like it in the territory. Ragsdalesaid so himself. You gimme that necktie orI'll pizen yore bronc."

"Goin' to de Bend to-morrow?" inquiredTelescope of Loudon, when they wereriding the range the day before the dance.

"I don't guess so. I don't feel just like

dancin'. Don't enjoy it like I used to.Gettin' old, I guess."

"I'm goin', but not to de dance een dehotel. I'm goin' to de dance hall, un I weelplay de pokair, too. Ah, I weel have degood tam. W'y not you come wit' me?"

"Maybe I will. See how I feel to-morrow. I'm goin' to pull my freight nextweek sometime. Got an engagement inFarewell in five weeks or so, an' I want tofind the little hoss before then."

"We'll fin' heem, you un me. I am readyany tam you say."

That evening Scotty Mackenzie haltedLoudon on his way to the bunkhouse.

"Goin' to the dance, Tom?" queriedScotty.

"I'm goin' to the Bend, but no dance inmine."

"Say, you make me sick! Dorothy'll be atthat dance, an' yuh'll hurt her feelin's if yuhdon't go. She'll think yuh don't want todance with her or somethin'."

"I can't help what she thinks, can I? Idon't have to go to that dance."

"Yuh don't have to, o' course not, but yuhgot to think o' other folks. Why, only daybefore yesterday when I was at the Bendshe was askin' after yuh, an' I told heryuh'd shore see her at the dance."

"Yuh did, did yuh? All right, I'm goin' tothe Bend to-morrow with the rest o' theboys, but I've got a little poker game inmind. The dance is barred, Scotty."

"Oh, all right. Have it yore own way. I'monly tryin' to help yuh out. Say, Tom,y'ain't still thinkin' o' goin' away, are yuh?Yuh can have that bay like I said, an'another pony, too, if yuh like. Yuh see, Iwant yuh to stay here at the Flyin' M. I'mhard up for men now, an'——"

"Say," interrupted Loudon, on whom agreat light had suddenly dawned, "say, isthat why yo're so anxious to have me gosee Miss Burr, huh? So I'll fall in lovewith her, an' stay here, huh? Is that it?"

"Why, Tom, o' course not," deniedScotty, indignantly. "I wasn't thinkin' o'such a thing."

"I ain't none so shore, Scotty. It soundsjust like yuh."

"Well, it ain't like me nohow. Yo'rewrong, Tom, all wrong as usual. Suityoreself about the dance, suit yoreself. Igot nothin' more to say. Here's a lettercome for yuh to-day."

Scotty handed the letter to Loudon anddeparted, offended dignity in the set of hisshoulders. The pose was assumed, andLoudon knew it. When next they met,Scotty would reopen his favourite issue asusual.

"Now how did he guess it?" wonderedScotty, gloomily, kicking the pebbles onhis way to the office. "How did he guessthe truth, I'd like to know? An' he's goin'away after all! The best man in the outfit! Igot to do somethin', that's a cinch."

Poor Scotty! So must Machiavelli havefelt when one of his dearest schemes wasupset by some clever Florentine.

Left alone, Loudon tore open the letter. Itran:

Dere frend lowden Id uv rote sooner only Ivebeen sick fele bad stil sene things fur a weak but Ican rite now anyhow. Wel, after you an Mackenzylef in the afternoon Block an the uther fellar rid

in. I noed the uther fellar what stole yore hosscause he looked just like you sed hed look butthe hoss he was ridin wasnt yore hoss he wassumbuddy elses hoss I dunno whoos yet. Wen Isene Block an him I had it all fixed up with themarshul to arest the uther fellar but the hosswasnt yourn it was a bawlface pinto so themarshal couldnt arest him without a warant.Block an him rode away on the trail to Farewel.Block tride to find out bout you an Scotty andthat drummer told him how you an Scotty had ridback to the Bend. Wel, I knoked the drummerdown an stepped on his face an throwed him intothe waterin-troff an kiked him three times rounthe house. I'm lookin out for yore hoss wen I seehim I'll let you noe hopin this fines you like itleeves me yore frien Dave Sinclair.

Dave Sinclair was the landlord of the

hotel in Rocket. Loudon re-read the letterand swore whole-heartedly. To miss RufeCutting by a few hours! Riding a bald-faced pinto, was he? What had he donewith Ranger? Loudon went to thebunkhouse in a brown study.

Scotty alone of the Flying M outfitelected to remain at the ranch the night ofthe dance. All the others raced into townbefore sunset. At the ford of theDogsoldier they met the Seven Lazy Sevenboys from beyond the Government Hills.Doubleday greeted Dawson, the SevenLazy Seven foreman, with a long wolf-howl. Whooping and yelling, the riderssquattered across the creek and pouredinto Paradise Bend, the wild-eyed poniesrocketing like jack-rabbits.

It was an expansive evening in the Bend.The corrals were full of ponies bearing ontheir hips the brands of the Two Bar,TVU, Double Diamond K, Wagonwheel,and half-a-dozen other ranches. In thehotel corral where the Flying M outfitunsaddled, Loudon saw horses belongingto the Barred O and the T up-and-down,which ranches were a score of milessouthwest of Rocket.

The men of the various outfits circulatedrapidly from saloon to saloon. Bymidnight many would be drunk. But therewere several hours before midnight.

Loudon and Telescope left theircomrades lining up at the hotel bar andgravitated to the Three Card. Here they

found Jim Mace and Marshal Dan Smith,who hailed them both with markedcordiality. They drank together, and JimMace suggested a little game. Telescope'seyes began to gleam, and Loudonperceived that his friend was lost to himfor that evening. Loudon was in no moodfor poker, so the three prevailed upon agentleman from the Barred O to make afourth, and retired to an empty table in thecorner of the room. Loudon remainedstanding at the bar, regarding the rows ofbottles on the shelves and gloomilypondering the exigencies of life.

"Cards no good," he reflected. "Dancin'the same. Nothin' goes good no more.Even licker don't taste like it used to.Guess I better have another an' make

shore."

He had another. After a time he feltbetter, and decided to look in at the dance.From the open windows of the hotelissued sounds of revelry—the shuffle andpound of boot-leather and the inspiringstrains of the "Arkansaw Traveller"played by two fiddlers sitting on a table.

Loudon, his hat pulled forward, leanedhis chest against a windowsill and peeredover the fat shoulders of Mrs. Ragsdaleand a freighter's wife, who were enjoyingthe festivities with such zest that the chairsthey sat in were on the point of collapse.

Kate Saltoun and Dorothy Burr weredancing in the same set. Dawson of the

Seven Lazy Seven was Kate's partner, andPete O'Leary swung Dorothy. Loudon wasstruck by the fact that Kate was notsmiling. Her movements, likewise, lackeda certain springiness which was one of hersalient characteristics.

"Somebody must 'a' stepped on her toe,"decided Loudon. "Bet she don't dancewith Dawson again."

She didn't. Marshal Dan Smith,perspiring and painfully conscious of ahard shirt and a forest-fire necktie, washer next partner. Loudon wondered whyhe had not hitherto perceived the markedresemblance between Dan Smith and ajack-rabbit. He found himself speculatingon Kate's reasons for breaking her

engagement. As he looked at Kate, herextreme beauty, contrasted with that of theother girls in the room, was striking.

"Kate is certainly a heap good-looker."

Mrs. Ragsdale and the freighter's wifeturned sharply and stared open-mouthed atLoudon. Not till then did that young manrealize that he had voiced aloud hisestimate of Kate Saltoun. He fledhurriedly, his skin prickling all over, anddived into the kindly darkness behind thecorral.

"Now I have done it!" he mourned,bitterly, squatting on the ground. "Thoseold tongue-wagglers heard me, an' they'lltell her. I seen it in their faces. What'll she

think o' me. Luck! There ain't no suchthing. If all the rocks was tobacco an' allthe grass cigarette-papers, I'd be therewithout a match."

From the hotel drifted thinly the lilt of"Buffalo Girls." A bevy of convivialbeings in the street were bawling "TheDays of Forty-Nine." Across thediscordant riot of sound cut the suddenclipping drum of a galloping pony.

"Injuns!" shouted a voice. "Injuns!"

Loudon sprang up and dashed around thecorral. In the flare of light from the hoteldoorway a dusty man sat a dustier horse.The man was hatless, his dark hair wasmatted with dirt and sweat, and his eyes

were wild.

"Injuns!" cried the dusty man. "Injuns onHatchet Creek! I want help!"

In thirty seconds there was a fair-sizedgroup surrounding the horseman. In aminute and a half the group had become acrowd. Up bustled Marshal Dan Smithfollowed by Telescope Laguerre, JimMace, and the gentleman from the BarredO. Loudon, first on the scene, was jammedagainst the rider's stirrup.

"Gents," the dusty man was saying, "mythree pardners are a-standin' off the war-whoops in a shack over by Johnson's Peakon Hatchet Creek. There's more'n ahundred o' them feather-dusters an' they'll

have my pardners' hair if yuh don't comea-runnin'."

"Johnson's Peak!" exclaimed Jim Mace."That's fifty mile away!"

"All o' that," assented the dusty man,wearily, without turning his head. "ForGod's sake, gents, do somethin', can't yuh?An' gimme a fresh hoss."

Already three quarters of his hearerswere streaking homeward for theirWinchesters and saddles. The men fromthe ranches were the last to move away.No need for them to hurry. The few whohad brought rifles to the Bend had leftthem with their saddles at the variouscorrals.

Within half an hour the dusty man,mounted on one of the marshal's ponies,was heading a posse composed of everyavailable man in Paradise Bend. Only themarshal and two men who were sickremained behind.

The posse, a column of black andbobbing shapes in the starlight, lopedsteadily. Many of the ponies had travelledtwenty and thirty miles that day, and therewere fifty more to pass under their hoofs.The average cow-horse is a hardy bruteand can perform miracles of work whencalled upon. Secure in this knowledge, theriders fully intended to ride out theirmounts to the last gasp.

Doubleday and Dawson rode stirrup to

stirrup with the man from Hatchet Creek.Tailing these three were Loudon,Telescope Laguerre, the Barred Opuncher, and Jim Mace.

"How'd yuh get through, stranger?"queried Doubleday.

"I dunno," said the dusty man. "I jus' did.I had to. It was make or break. Them war-whoops chased me quite a spell."

"You was lucky," observed Dawson.

"Yo're whistlin' I was. We was all luckywhen it comes to that. We was at the shackeatin' dinner when they jumped us. S'posewe'd been down the creek where ourclaims is at, huh?"

"Yo're hair would shore be decoratin' aInjun bridle," admitted Dawson. "But Ididn't know there was gold on HatchetCreek."

"We got four claims," said the dustyman, shortly.

"Gettin' much?"

"We ain't millionaires yet."

"No, I guess not," whispered Jim Maceto Loudon. "I'll gamble that gravel don'tassay a nickel a ton. Been all through themhills, I have. I know Hatchet like I do theDogsoldier. There's no gold there."

"This prospector party says different,"muttered Loudon.

"You'll see," sniffed Jim Mace. "Goldon the Hatchet! He's loco! You'll see."

"It's a good thing, stranger," Dawsonwas saying, "yuh hit the Bend when wewas havin' a dance. There ain't more'nfifty or sixty men a-livin' reg'lar in theplace."

"Well," said the dusty man, "I did thinko' headin' for Fort Yardley. But themfeather-dusters was in between, so it wasthe Bend or nothin'. Oh, I knowed I wastakin' chances, what with no ranches inbetween, an' the little hoss liable to golame on me an' all. It's a long ride, gents.Say, seems like we're a-crawlin' an' a-crawlin' an' gittin' nowheres."

"We're a-gittin' some'ers right lively,"corrected Doubleday. "If yore pardnershave plenty o' cartridges they'll be a-holdin' out all right when we git there.Don't yuh fret none, stranger."

"I ain't—only—only—well, gents, therewas a roarin' passel o' them Injuns."

"Shore, shore, but we'll strike theHatchet near Tepee Mountain 'round sun-up, an' from Tepee to Johnson's Peak ain'tmore'n twenty miles—less, if anythin'."

In the keen light of dawn the pyramidalbulk of Tepee Mountain loomed not sixmiles ahead. When the sun rose the possehad skirted its base and was riding alongthe bank of Hatchet Creek.

And now the dusty man began to displaysigns of a great nervousness. He fidgetedin his saddle, examined and tried the leveraction of his rifle, and gloomily repeatedmany times that he believed the possewould arrive too late. As they passedabove a cut bank, the dusty man, ridingnear the edge, dropped his Winchester.The piece slipped over the edge andsplashed into the water fifteen feet below.Swearing, the dusty man rode back towhere the bank was lower anddismounted.

"Don't wait for me!" he shouted, wadingupstream. "I'll catch up."

The posse rode onward. Some of thehorses were staggering with fatigue. All of

them were jaded and dripping with sweat.Suddenly Telescope Laguerre rode fromthe line and vaulted out of his saddle. Helanded on his hands and knees andremained in that position, his head thrustforward, his eyes blazing with excitement.

"What's eatin' Telescope?" demandedDoubleday.

"Tom! Tom! Come here! Queeck!"shouted the half-breed.

"Say!" snorted Doubleday. "What is this,anyway? Do you fellers know there'ssome Injuns up here a piece?"

But Loudon had joined Telescope andneither of the two gave the slightest heed

to the outraged Doubleday.

"Look!" exclaimed Laguerre, as the tailof the column passed. "Look! Yore hossshe come out o' de wood here! See!"

"My hoss! You mean Ranger?" Loudonstared, thunderstruck, at the hoofmarks oftwo horses.

"Yore hoss, Ranger! Ah, once I see dehoss-track I know heem again! Las' tamyou shoe de hoss you shoe heem all 'roun'.Dees ees hees track. No man was rideheem. She was de led hoss. Feller rideodder hoss. See! Dey come out de woodun go dees way."

Telescope waved a hand over the way

they had come.

"How old are the tracks?" queriedLoudon, breathlessly.

"Mabbeso four day. No use follow dem.We lose 'em on de hard groun'."

"Telescope, I got an idea somethin'swrong. I dunno what, but these trackscomin' in here thisaway, an' that fellahwith the Injun story—I guess now theyhitch somehow. I tell yuh I dunno how"—as Telescope opened his mouth to speak—"an' I may be wrong, but I'm goin' backafter that party from Hatchet Creek."

Loudon swung into his saddle andspurred his mount. The animal responded

gamely, but a pitifully slow lope was thebest speed it could shake out of its wearylegs. Laguerre's pony was in worse case.The short halt had stiffened his kneesslightly and he stumbled at every otherstep. The two men lolloped jerkilydownstream. Rounding a sharp bend, theycame in sight of the cut bank where thedusty stranger had dropped his gun.Neither man nor horse was visible.

"By gar!" exclaimed Laguerre. "By gar!"

Just then his horse stumbled for the lasttime, fell on its knees, and rolled over onits side. Laguerre flung himself clear andbounced to his feet. The pony struggledup, but Laguerre did not remount. Hedragged his rifle from the scabbard and

ran forward on foot to rejoin his comrade.Loudon was leaning over the saddlehornexamining the spot where the dusty manhad left his horse.

"Ground's kind o' hard," said Loudon,"but it looks like he'd headed for that flat."

"He go dere all right!" exclaimedLaguerre, excitedly. "Come on, Tom!"

Running awkwardly, for cow-countryboots are not fashioned for rapidlocomotion, Laguerre led the way towarda broad meadow fifty yards away. Once inthe meadow the trail was easier to follow.The meadow was at least a quarter-milewide, and woods bordered it on threesides.

The trail led straight across it, and oninto the forest. The trees did not growthickly, and Laguerre, his eyes on theground, threaded his way in and out

between the trunks at an ankle-strainingtrot. He had excellent wind, hadTelescope Laguerre. Loudon was forcedto employ spurs and quirt in order to keepup with him.

Four hundred yards deep in the forestthey saw ahead an opening in the trees. Aminute later they charged into a largemeadow. In the middle of the meadowwas an ancient shack, doorless, the rooffallen in, flanked by a corral which gaveevidence of having been recently repaired.

"Somethin' movin' in that corral," saidLoudon, and dragged out his gun.

Then, in half a watch-tick, a man on achestnut horse flashed across the open

space between the corral and the shack.Loudon and Laguerre swung to one side,but the man did not immediately reappearon the other side of the shack. A few stepsfarther and they saw him. He was ridingdirectly away from them and was withinfifty yards of the forest.

The fugitive was a long two hundredyards distant, but they recognized his backwithout any difficulty. He was the dustyman from Hatchet Creek, and his horsewas Loudon's Ranger.

"Look out for the hoss!" cried Loudon,as Laguerre flung up his rifle.

The rifle cracked spitefully once andagain. The rider, with a derisive yell,

disappeared among the trees. Laguerredropped his rifle-butt, and began to utterstrange and awful oaths in a polyglot ofFrench and English. Loudon sheathed hissix-shooter, kicked his feet out of thestirrups, and calmly rolled a cigarette.

"No use a-cussin', Telescope," heobserved. "He's done gone."

Pht-bang! a rifle spat from the distantwood. Loudon's horse gave a convulsivesidewise leap, dropped with a groan androlled half over, pinning Loudon to theground. Laguerre, flat on his stomach, wasfiring at the thinning smoke-cloud underthe trees. But there were no more shotsfrom the forest.

"Say, Telescope," called Loudon, "whenyuh get plumb through would yuh mindpullin' this cayuse off o' my legs?"

Still cursing, Laguerre levered up thebody of the dead pony with the barrel ofhis rifle, and Loudon wriggled free. Heendeavoured to stand on his feet, but satdown abruptly.

"What's de matter?" inquired Laguerre."Bullet hit you, too?"

"No," replied Loudon, gingerly feelinghis right ankle, "my foot feels funny."

"Mabbeso de leg broke," suggestedLaguerre. "Mabbeso dat feller she tryanudder shot. Better you be behin' de log-

house."

He picked up his rifle, helped Loudon tostand erect, and passed an arm around hiswaist. So, hopping on one foot, Loudonreached the shelter of the shack wall.Laguerre eased him to the ground andskipped nimbly down past the corral.

"Mabbeso I geet dat feller," he calledover his shoulder. "Be back soon."

Laguerre returned in five minutes.

"Dat feller she geet clean away," hesaid, disconsolately. "Nevair touch heem.By gar! Eef I not have run so hard, I shootbetter. Geet heem shore den."

"Pull my boot off, will yuh, Telescope?"

requested Loudon, extending his leg.

Laguerre pulled. Loudon gritted histeeth. The pain was sharp, nauseating.

"It's no good," said Loudon, thickly."Got to cut the boot off."

Laguerre whipped out his knife and slitthe leather from instep to top. Gently heremoved the boot. Loudon peeled off thesock. The ankle was badly swollen.

"Wiggle de toe," commanded Laguerre.

Loudon wriggled his toes and was ableto move his ankle slightly, not without adeal of pain, however. He noted withthankfulness that the pain was continuous,and not stabbing as it is when a bone is

involved.

"Bone's all right," he observed,cheerfully. "Only a sprain, I guess."

"Dat ees good," said Laguerre. "I geet deodder hoss."

He strode to the dead horse and strippedoff saddle and bridle.

"Say," said Loudon, "I can do that whileyo're goin' for the hoss. We'll have toleave 'em here, anyway."

"No, not dees treep, my frien'," Laguerresaid, carrying saddle and bridle towardthe corral. "Dat feller she leave DanSmeet's hoss on de odder side de corral.Hoss she pretty tire', but she carry you all

right."

On his hands and knees Loudon crawledto the corral and peered between the bars.The corral was a large one. Till recentlythe grass had grown thickly within it. Butthat grass had been nibbled to the roots,and the marks of shod hoofs wereeverywhere. From a spring near the shacka small stream ran through one corner ofthe corral.

"Slick," said Loudon. "Couldn't havebeen better, could it?"

"No eet could not," agreed Laguerre."She feex up dees ole corral fine. DatRanger hoss she been here mabbeso fourday. She have de grass. She have de

watair. She all ready fresh w'en dat fellershe come. Un how can we follow wit' detire' pony? Oh, she have eet figure all out.For w'y? Can you tell me dat, Tom?"

"I dunno. It shore is too many for me."

He painfully made his way to the spring,drank, and then soaked his sprained anklein the icy stream till Laguerre came tohelp him into the saddle.

On the bank of the Hatchet they foundLaguerre's pony lying where it had fallen.The animal was not dead. It was soundasleep.

"Hear dat?" said Laguerre, late in theafternoon.

Loudon listened. From afar off came abuzzing murmur. It grew louder andlouder.

"The boys are some het up," observedLoudon.

The posse straggled into view. The boyswere "het up." They were all talking atonce. Evidently they had been talking forsome time, and they were full of theirsubject. At sight of Loudon and hisbootless leg the clamour stilled.

"Hit bad, Tom?" called Doubleday.

"Hoss fell on me," explained Loudon."Yuh don't have to say nothin',Doubleday," he added, as the foreman

dismounted beside him. "I know just whathappened."

"Oh, yuh do, do yuh?" snortedDoubleday, wrathfully. "I might 'a'knowed there was somethin' up when thatgent an' you fellers didn't catch up. An' usridin' our heads off from hell to breakfast!Why, we'd be combin' this country yetonly we met some o' the cavalry from FortYardley an' they said there ain't been anInjun off the reservation for a month. Theyshore give us the laugh. ——! That's hishoss! Did yuh get him?"

"We did not. The fellah got away nice asyuh please on my hoss Ranger—yep, thehoss Rufe Cutting stole in the Bend.Gimme the makin's, somebody, an' I'll tell

yuh what happened."

CHAPTER XIV

A DETERMINED WOMAN

A long, ragged line of dirty, tired men,and sweat-caked, drooping-headedhorses, the posse rode into Paradise Bendin the afternoon of the following day. Themen were quiet. Silently they dispersed tothe various corrals. Loudon, his right legdangling free, had suffered increasinglyduring the long ride. By the time the Bend

was reached the pain in his ankle wastorturing. At the hotel corral Laguerre andDoubleday helped him to dismount.

"Yuh got to go to bed awhile, Tom,"pronounced Doubleday. "Grab myshoulder."

"Where was you thinkin' o' takin' him?"demanded the exceedingly cross voice ofMrs. Burr.

"The hotel, ma'am," replied Doubleday,taking off his hat.

Mrs. Burr marched forward and haltedin front of the trio. She stuck her armsakimbo and glared at Doubleday.

"The hotel!" she snapped. "The hotel!

An' my house close by! What's the matterwith you, John Doubleday? My land, it's agood thing I seen you three a-comin' inhere. I just knowed yuh was aimin' to puthim in the hotel. Yuh'll do nothin' o' thekind. Yuh hear me! I ain't goin' to have nofriend o' mine with a game leg a-roostin'in this hotel. The beds are bad, an' thegrub's worse. What's the matter, Tom?Shot?"

"It's only a sprain, ma'am," said Loudon."An' I guess if yuh don't mind, I'll go to thehotel. I couldn't think o' troublin' yuh,ma'am. Thank yuh a lot, but I couldn't,honest."

"Oh, yuh couldn't, couldn't yuh? My land,ain't yuh uppity all of a sudden? Yuh don't

know what yo're talkin' about. Men neverdo nohow an' a sick man don't, special.Yo're a-comin' to my house, an' I'm a-goin'to put yuh to bed an' cure that sprainedankle. Yuh can just bet I am. JohnDoubleday, you h'ist him aboard that ponyright away quick an' fetch him roundinstanter. If he ain't outside my door infive minutes I'll come back an' know thereason why. Hurry now. I'm goin' aheadan' get some hot water ready."

Twenty minutes later Loudon was sittingin the Burr kitchen. He was smoking acigarette and soaking his sprained ankle ina bucket of hot water. At the kitchen tablestood Mrs. Burr shaking up a bottle ofhorse liniment.

"What's this John Doubleday tells meabout yore ride no'th bein' a joke?" askedMrs. Burr.

"I dunno no more'n Doubleday," repliedLoudon. "It's all beyond me."

"It's shore a heap funny. No feather-dusters, no miner folks a-standin' 'em off,an' that gent who brought the news runnin'off thataway an' shootin' at yuh an' all. Itmust mean somethin', though. A fellerwouldn't do all that just for a real joke. It'stoo much."

"I wish I knew what it meant, ma'am."

"Well, it's a queer world, full o' queerfolks an' queerer doin's," observed the

lady, holding the bottle against the light."Anyhow, this here liniment will fix yuhup fine as frog's hair. Now yuh must justlift yore foot out an' I'll dry it. Shut up!Who's running this, I'd like to know? Landsakes, why shouldn't I dry yore ankle?Shut up, I tell yuh.

"My fathers, Tom, you men make meplumb tired! Idjits, the lot o' yuh. No moresense than so many fool hens. What yuh allneed is wives to think for yuh, tell yuhwhat to do, an' all that. There now, it'sdry. Where's that cloth? Hold the foot stillwhile I wrap it 'round. Now this liniment'sa-goin' to burn. But the burnin's healin'.The harder it burns the quicker yuh'll getwell. Shore!

"As I was sayin', Tom, yuh'd ought to getmarried. Do yuh good. Make yuh steadier—give yuh a new interest in life, an' allthat. Ever think of it, Tom?"

Mrs. Burr rose to her feet and beameddown upon Loudon. That young man wasbeginning to feel strangely weak. FirstScotty, and now Mrs. Burr! What was thematter with everybody? Scotty, of course,was an eccentric. But for Mrs. Burrbrazenly to hurl her daughter at his headwas incomprehensible. Loudon, red to theears, mustered a weak smile.

"I dunno, ma'am," he gulped,uncomfortably. "I—I hadn't thought of it, Iguess."

"Well, yuh'd ought to think of it. An' ifyuh know what's best for yuh, yuh willthink of it—hard. I tell yuh flat, Tom, asingle man ain't no-account. He don'tgather no moss, but he does collect badhabits. Now a wife she stops all thisrattlin' round a-diggin' up what St. Peterwill ask yuh questions about. Yessir, agood wife keeps yuh up to the bit an' a-headin' the right way."

Nervously Loudon began to roll anothercigarette. He hoped that Mrs. Burr hadfinished. His hope was vain.

"Well, now, Tom, ain't I right?" shedemanded.

"Shore, ma'am, shore, plumb right,"

Loudon hastened to assure her.

"'Course I am. I knowed yuh'd see it thatway. Why don't yuh do it?"

"Do it?"

"Yuh know perfectly well what I mean.Ask a girl to marry yuh."

"Any girl?"

"Not just any girl. If yuh was to ask me Icould tell yuh who right quick. But Isuppose that wouldn't do."

Loudon was devoutly thankful that thelady possessed some sense of propriety.

"We-e-ell, ma'am," he said, slowly, "no

girl would have me."

"Did yuh ever ask one?" This with ashrewd cock of the eyebrow.

"I did once."

"An' she give yuh the mitten, huh? Morefool she. Listen to me: when a hoss bucksyuh off, what do yuh do? Give up, orclimb aboard again?"

"That's different."

"'Tain't a bit different. Girl or hoss, aman shouldn't ever give up. Y'asked a girlonce, didn't yuh? Yuh said yuh did. Well,ask her again. Land sakes alive, give her achance to change her mind!"

Good heavens! Did Mrs. Burr meanKate Saltoun? Impossible. But was itimpossible? Of late, the seeminglyimpossible had had an uncanny habit ofcoming to pass. Loudon shivered. He wasquite positive that he did not love Kate.The longer he considered the matter themore fully convinced he became that hedid not wish to marry any one. Which wasnatural. Bid a man fall in love with a girland he will at once begin to find fault withher.

"She—she wouldn't have me,"dissembled Loudon. "It's no use talkin',ma'am, I'm what the fellah in the bookcalls a shore-enough blighted being. Itmakes me feel terrible, ma'am, but yuhcan't do nothin'. Nobody can. I just got to

bear it, I guess."

He sighed enormously, but there was atwinkle in the gray eyes.

"Yo're laughin'!" exclaimed Mrs. Burr,severely. "I'd like to shake yuh, I would. Itain't for nothin' that man an' mule beginwith the same letter. Stubborn! My land o'livin', a girl's feelin's ain't nothin' to yuh!What do you care, yuh great big good-for-nothin' lummox!"

"Now, ma'am," chided Loudon, grinning,"yo're gettin' real excited."

"Who wouldn't? Here I am——"

"Say," interrupted Loudon, "when itcomes to that, here I am gettin' fifty-five

dollars a month. However can I getmarried, even if anybody'd have me, withsilk dresses at five dollars a yard?"

"Silk dresses! What d'yuh mean by that?"

"Why, ma'am, I wouldn't let my wifewear nothin' but silk dresses mornin',noon, an' night. Nothin' would be too goodfor my wife. So yuh see how it is. Idassent think o' marriage."

Words failed Mrs. Burr. It was probablythe first time that they had failed her. Shegasped, gasped again, then stamped to thestove and furiously rattled the frying-pan.

"Well," she suddenly remarked,"wherever can that girl o' mine be?

Gallivantin' 'round with that O'Leary fellerjust when I want her to go to the store.Now look here, Tom, you set right still tillI come back, do yuh hear? No projeckin''round on that ankle. I'll get Ben to put yuhto bed after supper."

"He needn't bother," said Loudon,hastily. "I can get into bed my own self. Iain't a invalid."

"Yo're just what I say yuh are. If yuhmake any fuss I'll put yuh to bed myself.So you watch out."

The masterful lady departed. Loudon,undisturbed by her threat, gazed after herwith admiration.

"She's a whizzer," he said under hisbreath. "Got a heart like all outdoors. Butthat ankle ain't as bad as she makes out.Bet I can hop to the door an' back just aseasy."

So, because he had been forbidden tobudge, Loudon hoisted himself out of thechair, balanced on one leg, and hoppedacross the room. Holding himself uprightby the door-jambs he peered outcautiously. He wished to assure himselfthat Mrs. Burr was well on her way to thestore before proceeding farther on histravels around the kitchen.

Mrs. Burr was not in sight. Surely shecould not have reached the corner so soon.Vaguely disturbed, Loudon kept one eye

cocked down the street. His vigilance wasrewarded by the emergence from the Macedoorway of both Mrs. Burr and KateSaltoun. Mrs. Burr went on toward MainStreet. Kate turned in his direction.

"Good Lord!" gurgled Loudon,despairingly. "She's a-comin' here!"

In a panic he turned, slipped,overbalanced, and his whole weightground down hard on his sprained ankle.The most excruciating pain shot throughhis whole being. Then he toppled down ina dead faint.

When he recovered consciousnessKate's arm was around his shoulders, andKate's voice was saying, "Drink this."

Through a mist he saw Kate's face and herdark eyes with a pucker of worry betweenthem.

"Drink this," repeated Kate, and Loudondrank from the glass she held to his lips.

The whisky cleared away the mist andinjected new life into his veins. Ashamedof his weakness, he muttered hasty thanks,and essayed to rise.

"Don't move!" Kate commanded,sharply. "Hold still till I pull that chairover here."

"I can get up all right, Kate. I ain't hurt."

"No, of course not. You've just shownhow much you aren't hurt. Do as I say."

Kate pulled the chair toward her andwas helping Loudon into it when Mrs.Burr entered. That she had gone to thestore was doubtful. At least, she wasempty-handed.

"My land!" exclaimed Mrs. Burr,running to Kate's assistance. "What's thematter? Tom, did yuh get up after I toldyuh not to?"

Loudon mumbled unintelligibly.

"I found him in a dead faint on the floor,"was the illumining remark of Kate.

"Oh, yuh did, did yuh? I might 'a'knowed it! Can't do nothin' yo're told, canyuh, Tom? I'll bet yuh twisted that ankle

again! My fathers, yuh make me tired! Betyuh it's all swelled up now worse'n ever.Lemme look."

Expertly Mrs. Burr stripped thewrappings from Loudon's ankle.

"Thought so!" she grunted, and took thedishpan from its hook.

"Is it very bad?" queried Kate.

"Not near so bad as he's tryin' to make itwith his hoppin' 'round. Land alive! He'llbe lucky if it ain't lame the rest of his life.Now, Tom, I'm goin' to use hotter water'nI did before. Yuh deserve to have that footgood an' scalded, yuh do. I'll get theswellin' down, too, if I have to parboil

yuh. Don't yuh make no mistake about that.Say, I don't see how steppin' on this herecould 'a' made yuh faint, unless—— Say,Tom, when did yuh eat last?"

"Why, ma'am, I don't—well, I guess itwas yesterday some time."

Kate uttered a soft exclamation.

"Yesterday some time!" cried Mrs. Burr,hurrying to the stove. "Yesterday mornin'too, I'll bet. I might 'a' knowed it. Youfellers didn't take much grub with yuhwhen yuh went north. An' I never thoughtto ask when yuh et last. A sprained ankle,a fifty-mile ride, an' nothin' to eat on topof it. No wonder yuh fainted. Yuh poorfeller. An' here I been a-callin' yuh all

kinds o' names. We won't wait forDorothy. I'll have somethin' to eat for yuhin a minute."

"No hurry, ma'am," remarked Loudon. "Iain't a bit hungry."

"Kate," said Mrs. Burr, paying him noattention, "cut some bread, will yuh, an'start feedin' him. The butter's yonder."

Fifteen minutes later Loudon was sittingat the table devouring steak and potatoes.He was hungry. With great satisfactionMrs. Burr watched him tuck away thefood.

"There," she announced, filling hiscoffee cup for the second time, "I guess

that'll hold yuh for awhile. I'll just set thecoffeepot back on the stove an' Kate cangive yuh some more when yuh want it. I'mgoin' down street a minute."

When Mrs. Burr had gone Kate sat downopposite Loudon and locked her fingersunder her chin. Loudon steadfastly kept hiseyes glued to his plate. Confound the girl!Why must she pursue him in this brazenfashion? Couldn't she realize—butapparently she realized nothing save theimportance of her own desires. Man-like,Loudon hardened his heart. Curiouslyenough, the strictly impersonal tone ofKate's opening remark gave him a distinctfeeling of annoyance.

"Isn't Mrs. Burr great?" said Kate.

"Shore," mumbled Loudon.

"And Dorothy, too. I like her an awfullot. She came over to Lil's this morning,and we sewed and gossiped, and had aperfectly lovely time. She—Dorothy, Imean—showed me a new stitch—but, ofcourse, you aren't interested inembroidery. Tell me, how do you like thenew job?"

"All right."

"I'm glad. Is Mr. Mackenzie a goodboss?"

"Fine. Couldn't beat him—that is—er—yore dad always treated me white."

"I know," nodded Kate, her black eyes

twinkling. "Don't apologize. I quarrel withDad myself sometimes. Tom," she added,her expression sobering, "have you hadany news from Farewell lately?"

"Ain't heard a word since I left. Why?"

"I received a letter from Dad to-day. Hesays there's a warrant for rustling out foryou."

"That's good hearin'," said Loudon,cheerfully. "I'm one popular jigger in theLazy River country. They just can't getalong without me, can they?"

"Apparently not. Dad told me to tell you.Listen, it isn't generally known inFarewell or anywhere else in Fort Creek

County, for that matter, that a warrant isout for you. It was issued by Judge Allisonin Marysville. Block's keeping it as darkas possible."

"Goin' to spring it on me when I ain'tlookin', I suppose. He won't try fetchin'any warrant up here, that's a cinch."

"Hardly. I always hated that man."

"I never liked him a whole lot, neither.Say, how did yore dad hear about thatwarrant?"

"He didn't say, but I imagine somebodyin Marysville wrote him. He has friendsthere, you know."

"I didn't know, but I'm shore glad he has.

Next time yuh write yuh might thank yoredad for me."

"I will, of course. I'm awfully gladyou're safe up here, Tom. All the straightpeople in the Lazy River country knowyou didn't have any hand in the branding ofthose Crossed Dumbbell cattle, but thatdoesn't help much when Block and hisfriends are in the majority."

"Yo're right, it don't; but I got to go toFarewell anyway in about five weeks."

"What?" Kate's eyes widened withsomething very like fear.

"Shore," nodded Loudon. "I got a littlebusiness to attend to that can't be put off."

"Put it off," begged Kate, stretching out apleading hand. "Put it off, Tom. Youmustn't—you can't go back to Farewellnow. Some day everything will be allright again, and then you can go back. Butnot now, Tom. Your life is much moreimportant than any silly business. Pleasewait."

"Can't be did," said Loudon withfinality. "I just got to go, an' that's all thereis to it."

"But, Tom," cried Kate, "don't youunderstand? They'll—they'll h-hang you."

"They'll have to catch me first. 'Tain'tlegal otherwise."

"Oh, how can you make fun? I could cry.I could, indeed. I will, too, in a minute—only, you are fooling, aren't you? Youdon't really intend to go back."

"I never fool. Dunno how. I'm goin'back, an' if Farewell gets gay, why, I'lljust naturally rope that village o' tinhornsan' scatter it over a full section o' land.That'll cure 'em o' gettin' out warrants forpeaceable folks, won't it now?"

CHAPTER XV

A HIDDEN TRAIL

A pounding at his door woke Loudon inthe morning.

"'Lo," he called, sleepily.

"Time for yore dinner!" shouted Mrs.Burr through the panels. "It's noon."

"I'll get right up."

"Yuh will not. Yuh'll stay right whereyuh are. I'm comin' in."

She entered, bearing a basin and towels.

"There," she said, setting the basin onthe chair at the bedside. "There, yuh canwash yore own face. Hungry?"

"Some," he sputtered through streaming

water.

"That's good. I got a nice steak an' 'tatersan' gravy an' hot bread, an' there's a friendwants to see yuh."

"Who?"

"Swing Tunstall. He just rode in fromthe Flyin' M. I'm goin' out there thisafternoon. Dunno how long I'll be gone.But yuh'll be all right. I done asked LilMace to come over here an' live while I'maway. Lil an' Kate an' Dorothy'll lookafter yuh. An' mind yuh, do what they tellyuh, or I'll make it hot for yuh when Icome back."

"What's the matter? Anythin' happened at

the ranch?"

"Oh, nothin' much—over a hundred heado' hosses run off, an' Scotty's got twobullets in him."

"What!"

"Yep. That's why I'm goin' out. Got tolook after Scotty. Swing says he ain't hurtbad, an' Scotty is tougher'n back-leather,but still there'd ought to be a woman there,so I'm elected. No, I can't give yuh nodetails. Ain't got time. Swing will tell yuhall he knows. Good-bye, an' don't forgetwhat I said 'bout mindin' them three girls,Tom."

She picked up the basin and hastened

from the room, leaving the door open.Through the doorway Loudon could see asection of the kitchen and Kate andDorothy busy at the stove. But the objectsin view did not register any impressionson his shocked brain. Scotty shot! Ahundred horses stolen! Here was a grimmatter indeed, one requiring instant action,and he was laid up with a sprained ankle!Very arbitrary ladies, the three Fates.Heartily, but under his breath, for Dorothywas coming, Loudon cursed his luck.

"Well, invalid," smiled Dorothy, "here'syour dinner. Shall I feed you, or perhapsyou'd prefer Mrs. Mace or Kate? Howabout it?"

"I only sprained my ankle," said Loudon,

red to the ears.

He was wearing one of the Captain'snightgowns. The middle-aged scrutiny ofthe mother had not quickened him to thefact that the garment was much too smallfor him, but under the eyes of the daughterhe became burningly self-conscious. Theknowledge that Scotty had advisedDorothy to fall in love with him did notlessen the agony of the moment.

"I'll put it on this chair," said tactfulDorothy, partly fathoming the cause ofLoudon's distress. "Would you like to seeMr. Tunstall?"

"Shore I would. I didn't know he washere at the house."

"He's camping on the doorstep. I'll sendhim in. Isn't it awful about ScottyMackenzie? And all those horses, too.Nothing as bad as this ever happened inSunset County before."

"It won't happen again. Not right away,yuh can bet on that."

Dorothy withdrew, and Swing Tunstallentered. The bristle-haired young man shutthe door, grinned toothfully at Loudon, andsat down cross-legged on the floor.

"Howdy, Swing," said Loudon, "whyain't yuh chasin' the hoss thieves?"

"'Cause," replied Tunstall, "Doubledaysent me in to tell the sheriff an' get a doc

for Scotty. The doc's on his way, an' thesheriff's due in to-day from Rocket. Allthe outfit, 'cept Doubleday an' GiantMorton, are cavortin' over the hills an' faraway a-sniffin' to pick up the trail."

"When did it happen?"

"Well, as near as we could make out,after siftin' out Scotty's cuss-words an'gettin' down to hard-rock, Scotty was shot'bout eight or nine o'clock in the evenin'."

"How?"

"Says he heard a racket in the stallioncorral. No more'n he slips out of the officewhen he's plugged twice—once in the leftleg, an' a deep graze on his head. The head

shot is what knocked him out. He said hedidn't come to till after midnight. He drughimself into the office an' tied himself upthe best he could an' lived offen airtightstill we pulled in. He didn't even know anyhosses had been run off till after we gotback."

"I s'pose he was shot the evenin' of thedance?"

"Shore. Oh, ain't it lovely? While we'rechasin' imaginary feather-dusters, theFlyin' M hosses are vanishin'. It shore wasa slick trick. The gent that thought up thatplan for getting' every two-legged man inthe country out of the way is a wizard. I'dadmire to see him, I would. I'll bet he's allhead."

"He ain't exactly a fool," admittedLoudon, thinking of Sam Blakely.

Certainly the manner in which the horse-stealing had been carried out bore the ear-marks of 88 methods.

"They had two days' start," observedSwing Tunstall. "Time to ride to OldMexico almost."

"Telescope's a good tracker," saidLoudon, and began to eat his dinner.

"None better. But even Telescope can'tdo wonders. By the trail the hoss-bandheaded east. Them hosses was over ahundred, maybe a hundred an' fifty, milesaway by the time our outfit got started. In a

hundred an' fifty miles o' country yuh'llfind lots o' hard ground an' maybe arainstorm."

"Rain ain't none likely at this time o'year."

"It ain't likely, but hoss thieves with atwo-day start are in luck at the go-off. An'luck comes in bunches. If they's any rainwanderin' 'round foot-free an' fancy-loosethese gents will get it. An' then where'sTelescope an' his trackin'?"

When Tunstall had departed in search ofdiversion and to buy cartridges, Loudonlocked his hands behind his head andstared at the ceiling. In his mind he turnedover the events of the past few days. He

was sure that Sam Blakely and the 88outfit were the prime movers in theshooting of Scotty and the stealing ofScotty's horses.

Yet, save that the exceeding clevernessof procedure smacked of Blakely, therewere no grounds for suspecting the 88men. Blakely and his gang were not theonly cunning horse thieves in the territory.There were dozens of others free andunhung. Nevertheless, Loudon's instinctfastened the guilt on the 88.

"I'm shore," he muttered, "certain shore.But there ain't nothin' to go by. Not a thing.An' yuh can't prove nothin' lyin' on yoreback with a bumped ankle."

Half an hour later the entrance of KateSaltoun interrupted his gloomy reflections.

"Feeling worse, Tom?" she inquired, herexpression anxious.

"Me? Oh, not a little bit. I feel just like aflock o' birds with yaller wings."

"You needn't be snippy. I know howyour ankle must pain you, but——"

"It ain't the ankle, Kate. That feels fine,only I know I can't stand on it. It's what I'mthinkin' about. I was wonderin' 'boutScotty an' all."

"If I sit with you, would—would youlike to talk?" said she with a hesitantsmile, the slow red mounting to her

cheeks.

"If it wouldn't bother yuh too much."

"I'll be right back."

Kate took away the dishes, and Loudon,who had pulled the blankets up to his chinat her entry, snuggled deeper into the bedand wished himself elsewhere.

"What else could I say?" he askedhimself, dismally, "Lord A'mighty, I wishshe'd keep away from me."

Kate returned quickly, carried the chairto the foot of the bed, and sat down. Shecrossed one leg over the other and claspedher hands in her lap. Silence ensued for abrief space of time.

"Well," said Kate, leadingly.

"I was just a-wonderin' about this hossdeal," began Loudon. "I think——"

"I know what you intended saying," Kateobserved, calmly. "You see in it the fineItalian hand of Blakely."

"You always could talk high, wide, andhandsome," said Loudon, admiringly."How djuh guess it?"

"I know Sam Blakely. That's enough.He'd hesitate at nothing, no matter howvile or wicked it might be. Oh, don't lookso eager. I can't prove it. It's my instinct,that's all. I hate him—hate him—hatehim!"

Kate covered her face with her hands.

"They'll hear yuh in the kitchen,"cautioned Loudon in a whisper.

Kate lowered her hands and looked athim wearily. When she spoke her voicewas perfectly composed.

"No, they won't. Dorothy's over at Lil's.Don't worry, though. I sha'n't lose controlof myself. Something came over me then. Iwon't do it again."

"Well, you think like I do, but I can'tprove nothin', neither. Never have beenable to prove nothin' against the 88. Say,does yore dad still believe like he used toabout them cows?"

"The Crossed——"

" N o , his cows. Them cows thatdisappeared now an' then."

"I believe he does. He never talks much,you know, and it's sometimes hard for meto tell what he thinks. But I don't believehe suspects the 88. He was very angrywhen I broke the engagement. I wouldn'tgive him my reason, and he stormed andstamped around, and quarrelled with meall the time. That's partly why I came uphere to visit Lil Mace."

"If we could only wake up Fort CreekCounty—but them fellahs, most of 'em, arefor the 88, an' them that ain't have to take itout in thinkin' a lot. Now if we could

cinch this hoss-stealin' on the 88 it wouldhelp a lot down in Fort Creek County. Thehonest folks down there would havesomethin' to go on, an' they'd paint for warimmediate, an' with the boys from up hereit would be a cinch. We'd go over the 88outfit like a landslide. An' here I amthrowed an' hog-tied. Say——" Loudon'smouth opened wide. His eyes shone. In hisexcitement he raised himself on his elbow—"I got it! I got it!"

"What?" Kate leaned toward him, lipsparted.

"It ain't possible that dance was justluck," said Loudon, rapidly. "It couldn'tjust 'a' happened all hunky-dory so thatfellah from Hatchet Creek would find all

the boys in town. Not by a jugful itcouldn't! It was set for that night a-purpose. Now who started the ball a-rollin' for that dance?"

He gazed triumphantly at Kate. Her eyessparkled.

"I'll try and find out for you," she said.

"Howdy, folks?"

It was Pete O'Leary who spoke, and hewas standing beside the kitchen tablelooking in on them. Loudon's mouthtightened. How much of their conversationhad O'Leary heard?

"Good afternoon, Mr. O'Leary," saidKate, rising and advancing to the

doorway. "Looking for Dorothy, aren'tyou? Oh, I know you are. You'll find herdown at Mrs. Mace's.... Yes, it's abeautiful day, beautiful. Good afternoon,Mr. O'Leary, good afternoon."

In the face of this Pete O'Leary departed.Kate went into the kitchen. In a fewminutes she returned, laughing.

"He didn't go into Lil's," she said. "Hewent on toward Main Street. I watchedhim. He's a nervy individual. Dorothydoesn't like him, and I don't, either."

"I wonder if he did come to see Dorothy,or——"

"He came to see me."

"You!" Loudon's surprise was patent.

"Yes, isn't it charming? Turned him outin quick fashion, didn't I? The pest!Dorothy said he clung to her like glue till Icame. He's deserted her for me ever sincethe dance. She baked me a cake. Said itwas a reward. She'd never been able toget rid of him. But I'm afraid Dorothy's tootender-hearted. I don't mind being rude.Why, what's the matter?"

"I was just a-wonderin' how much thatfellah heard?"

"Oh, nothing," said Kate, carelessly."We weren't talking loudly, were we?Does it make any difference?"

"It shore does. O'Leary's in with the 88,or I'm a Dutchman."

"He is!"

"Shore," Loudon nodded. "I got proof o'that, anyhow."

"Heavens! If he heard what we weresaying he'll warn Blakely and the rest.And we can't stop him! We can't stophim!"

"Not yet we can't. I can't, special."

Kate stared steadily at Loudon.

"Tom," said she, after a silence, "if PeteO'Leary is Blakely's friend then PeteO'Leary got up that dance."

"Oh, I'm bright!" groaned Loudon. "Imust be losin' my mind. There it was,plain as the brand on a hoss, an' I neverseen it. O' course it was him."

"I'll soon find out," Kate exclaimed,briskly. "I'll ask Lil and Dorothy and Mrs.Ragsdale and Mrs. Dan Smith. They'llknow. Do you mind being left alone for awhile?"

"Not a bit—I mean——"

"Now never mind. I know perfectly wellwhat you mean. Here, I'll put your gunwhere you can reach it. If you wantanything, shoot."

She plumped his pillow, patted and

pulled the blankets to smoothness, andwas off.

"Ain't it amazin'?" marvelled Loudon."Now if anybody had told me that I couldtalk friendly again with Kate Saltoun, I'd'a' called him a liar. I shore would."

Ten minutes later plump Mrs. Maceentered and interrupted a flow of verybitter reflections on Pete O'Leary.

"Well, Mister Man, how's the ankle?"inquired Mrs. Mace, brightly. "Now don'tlook so glum. Kate'll be back before agreat while."

"I wasn't thinkin' o' her," was Loudon'sungallant retort.

"Yuh'd ought to. I guess yuh was, too.Yuh needn't be bashful with me. I'm Kate'sbest friend. An' I want to tell you rightnow I'm awful glad the pair of yuh gotover yore mad. It don't pay to quarrel. Inever do, not even when Jim Mace comesin all mud without wipin' his feet. Lord,what trials you men are! I don't reallyknow how we poor women get alongsometimes, I don't indeed. Want a drink o'water? Yuh can't have nothin' else. Mis'Burr said yuh couldn't."

"Then I guess that goes as it lays. But Iain't thirsty, an' I don't need nothin'.Honest."

"Yes, yuh do," contradicted Mrs. Mace,gazing critically at him. "Yuh need yore

hair brushed. It's all mussed, an' invalidsshould look neat. Don't start in to sputter. Isha'n't brush yore hair, but I'll tell Kateshe's no great shakes for a nurse. Now Ithink of it, Kate's hair was mussed upsome, too. H'm-m-m. What yuh gettin' redabout? No call to blush that I can see. Oh,you men!"

With a significant wink Mrs. Macewhisked kittenishly into the kitchen.Loudon could hear her lifting stove-lids.He perspired freely. The lady's weightybantering had raised his temperature.

What a world! Scotty urged him to makelove to Dorothy. Mrs. Burr advised him toset matters right with Kate. While Mrs.Mace had everything settled. Between the

three of them and his other troubles hebelieved he would go mad.

CHAPTER XVI

KATE IS HELPFUL

At six o'clock Kate returned.

"It took me longer than I expected," shewhispered, Dorothy and Mrs. Mace beingin the kitchen. "It's just as we thought. Ourfriend, Mr. O'Leary, was back of thedance. He suggested it to Mrs. Ragsdale,

and she got it up.

"I don't believe O'Leary heard any of ourconversation. He met me down street andsmirked and grinned and tried to invitehimself up to see me to-night. But I settledhim. I said I'd be busy for the next twoweeks. Look here, Tom, don't look soworried. If he heard what we said, don'tyou suppose he'd leave townimmediately? Of course he would. Hewouldn't dare stay."

"I ain't so shore about that. He's no fool,Pete O'Leary ain't. He knows there ain't noreal evidence against him. We only gotsuspicions, that's all. Enough for us, allright, but nothin' like enough to land him.No, he wouldn't vamoose right now.

That'd give him away. He'll stay an' bluffit through as long as he can. Then, again, ifhe pulls out he ain't no good to the 88 nomore. He's needed up here to let 'em knowhow things are pannin' out. Say, yuh didn'tlet them ladies suspicion what yuh wasafter, did yuh?"

"Of course not. I have a little sense. Imade my inquiries quite casually in thecourse of conversation. Don't fret, theywon't have a thing to gossip about."

"That's good. I might 'a' knowed yuh'd becareful."

With a start he realized that he wascommending her, actually commending thegirl who had once informed him in

withering accents that she would nevermarry an ignorant puncher. Here she waspathetically anxious to execute his everywish. Apparently she had stopped flirting,too.

As she flitted between his room and thekitchen he looked at her out of amazedeyes. Measuring her by her one-timefrivolous and coquettish actions, the newKate was rather astonishing. Man-like,Loudon began to suspect some trap. Thelady was too good to be true.

"Bet she's tollin' me on," he told himself."I'll ask her again, an' then pop'll go theweasel. No, sirree, I know when I'm welloff. As a friend, so long as she actsthisaway, she's ace-high, but I'll bet after

marriage she'd develop tempers an' thingslike that Sue Shimmers girl Scotty told meabout. Shore she would. Not a doubt of it.Yessir, single cussedness for Tom Loudonfrom now on henceforward. I'll gamble an'go the limit, it's got double blessednessbacked clean off the table."

Lying in bed was not doing Tom Loudona bit of good. He was fast becomingpriggishly cynical. Which attitude of mindmay have been natural, but was certainlyabominably ungallant.

Long after the others in the house wereasleep Loudon lay awake. His brain wasbusy fashioning plans for the undoing ofthe 88 outfit. It suddenly struck him thatthe guileful O'Leary undoubtedly wrote

letters. A knowledge of the addresses onthose letters was of paramountimportance. It would wonderfully simplifymatters.

The storekeeper, Ragsdale, was theBend postmaster. Loudon knew thatRagsdale was not given to idle chatter. Heresolved to take Ragsdale into hisconfidence.

In the morning after breakfast, Kate, firstmaking sure that Mrs. Mace and Dorothywere out of earshot, stooped over the bed.

"Tom," she said, "don't you think I'dbetter find out whether O'Leary writes anyletters and, if he does, to whom he writesthem?"

Loudon stared at her in astonishment.

"Huh—how did yuh think o' that?" heblurted out.

"I don't know. It came to me last night.It's a good idea, don't you think?"

"Shore, it's a good idea. I was thinkin'the same thing myself. But don't yuhbother. I'll find out soon's I'm able to getaround."

"Don't be silly. You'll be on your backten days at the least. O'Leary may writeseveral in the meantime, and the soonerwe know about it the better. Now I canfind out very easily. Mrs. Ragsdale, theprying soul, reads the addresses on every

letter coming in or going out. None everescapes her eagle eye. And she's a greatgossip. I've only seen her half-a-dozentimes, but nevertheless she's managed togive me detailed histories of the privatelives of most of the inhabitants. She enjoystalking to me because I never interrupt, soyou see how simple it will be."

"But I don't like to use you thisaway,"objected Loudon. "Yuh've done enough,too much, as it is."

"Nonsense! It will be great fun turningMrs. Ragsdale's tattlings into usefulinformation. Tattle! Why, she even told mehow much you approved of me at thedance. According to her story you cameand shouted your opinion into her ear. Did

you?"

"I knowed it!" groaned Loudon. "Iknowed she'd tell! I only said——"

"Never mind getting red. I didn't mind abit. I hoped you did like me. I wanted youto."

Here was thin ice. Loudon, pink aboutthe ears, squirmed inwardly.

"I—I," he stuttered, then, with a rush,"yo're doin' too much, I tell yuh. I'll seeabout these letters when I get up."

"No, you won't. I want to, and I'm goingto. It's settled and you needn't argue. I'll goto the postoffice right away. After dinnerI'll tell you all about it."

"Wait a minute!" cried Loudon, but Katewas gone.

Loudon had little time to reflect onfeminine wilfulness, for Mrs. Maceinsisted on spending the morning with him.Dorothy helped her spend it. The buzz oftheir chatter was lulling. Loudon dozed offand slept till Mrs. Mace awakened him atnoon.

"Nice way to treat two ladies," sniffedMrs. Mace. "Nice way, I must say. Herewe come in to entertain yuh while Kate'saway and yuh fall asleep, so yuh do. Betyuh wouldn't have fell asleep if Kate hadbeen here. No, I guess not. You'd havebeen chipper enough—grinnin' and smilin'all over yore face. But yuh can't even be

polite to Dorothy and me."

"Why, ma'am, I——"

"Oh, never mind makin' excuses. Weunderstand. It's all right. Say"—Mrs.Mace stooped down and guarded one sideof her mouth with her hand—"say, when'sthe weddin' comin' off?"

"Weddin'? What weddin'?"

"Oh, yes, I wonder what weddin'. I do,indeed. Well, of course yuh don't have totell if yuh don't want to. I'll ask Kate.Dorothy"—she straightened and calledover her shoulder—"you can bring in Mr.Loudon's dinner. He's decided to stayawake long enough to eat it."

He ate his dinner alone, but he did notenjoy it. For, in the kitchen, Dorothy andMrs. Mace with painful thoroughnessdiscussed all the weddings they had everseen and made divers thinly veiledremarks concerning a certain marriage thatwould probably take place in the fall.

"Say," called Loudon, when he couldendure their chatter no longer, "say, wouldyuh mind closin' that door? I got aheadache."

Silence in the kitchen for a brief spaceof time. Then, in a small demure voice,Mrs. Mace said:

"What was that? I didn't quite catch it."

With elaborate politeness Loudonrepeated his request.

"Oh, no," said Mrs. Mace, "the doormust be left open. Mis' Burr said so. Asick-room needs lots of fresh air. Iwouldn't dare close the door. Mis' Burrwouldn't like it."

"She'd scalp us if we closed it during theday," observed Dorothy.

The wretched Loudon could almost seethe wink which accompanied thisstatement.

"But he's got a headache," said Mrs.Mace. "We'd ought to do somethin' forthat. Can't allow him to have a headache,

Dorothy. You get the towels an' I'll getsome cold water. We'll bathe his head forhim. That'll fix him up."

"It ain't as bad as all that," deniedLoudon. "It's goin' away already. An' Idon't want my head bathed nohow. An' Iain't goin' to have it bathed, an' that's flat!"

At this juncture Kate entered the kitchen,announcing that she was starved. Dorothyand Mrs. Mace, both talking at once,asserted that Loudon had a violentheadache and would not allow them toalleviate his suffering; that he had been amost troublesome patient and had keptthem busy attending to his manifolddesires.

"Don't you believe 'em!" cried Loudon."I ain't done a thing. They been pesterin'me all mornin'. Won't let me sleep ornothin'."

"There! Listen to him!" exclaimed Mrs.Mace. "We did our level best to please,an' that's all the thanks we get. C'mon,Dorothy, let's go over to my house. Weain't wanted now. Yore dinner's in theoven, Kate. He's had his. Hope you'll havebetter luck managin' him than we did. I'dsooner wrangle forty hosses than one sickman."

The slam of the kitchen door put aperiod to her remarks. Kate enteredLoudon's room, a pucker of concernbetween her eyebrows.

"Have you really a headache?" sheinquired.

"Of course I haven't. But they wasbotherin' me—oh, I dunno, makin' foolremarks an' all like that. Say, did yuh findout anythin'?"

"Not much of any value, I'm afraid. Butyou're the better judge of that. PeteO'Leary writes to only one person—William Archer of Marysville. O'Learywrites to him once a week usually, but forthe last month he's written twice a week,and this week he mailed four letters toMarysville."

"Archer—Archer," mused Loudon. "Ican't think just now of anybody o' that

name in Marysville. But that town ain'tsuch a great way from the 88 ranch house—not more'n thirty mile at the most.Archer, whoever he is, could easy keep intouch with—with——"

"Don't boggle so over that man's name.You don't hurt my feelings in the least bymentioning Sam Blakely. Yes, he couldkeep in touch with Blakely very easily. Ilearned, too, that O'Leary receives lettersabout as frequently as he mails them. Theyare all in the same handwriting, and theyare all postmarked Marysville. One camefor him this morning. Mrs. Ragsdale letme see it, but the handwriting was strangeto me. If it had been Blakely's I'd haverecognized it. I'll keep in with Mrs.Ragsdale. I'll visit her every time a mail

arrives."

"No, it ain't necessary. It's enough toknow he writes to Marysville. First thingto do is see Archer, an' find out some ofhis habits. He's the link between PeteO'Leary an' the 88, that's a cinch."

"Then I really did learn something ofvalue. I am glad. I was afraid it wouldn'tbe worth a very great deal, and I do sowant to help you."

"Well, yuh shore have, Kate. Nobodycould 'a' helped me any better. But don'tdo no more. There ain't no reason why youshould. It ain't a woman's job anyhow."

"Oh, you've said that before. I intend to

help you all I can. I'm as interested as youare in the ultimate crushing of the 88outfit."

"Yes, but——"

"We won't discuss it, please. How doesthe ankle feel?"

"It's comin' along fine. I want to get upright now."

"Day after to-morrow you can getdressed if you like and sit out in thekitchen for a while. Oh, I know how hardit is to lie in bed, but one can't hurry asprain. You have a lot of hard workahead, and you must be in shape to gothrough with it. Listen, how would it be if

I wrote to Mr. Richie of the Cross-in-a-box and asked him to find out about thisArcher man?"

"No, I'd rather manage that myself. I'll goto Marysville."

"You can't! Why, the judge who issuedthat warrant for you lives there! You insiston going to Farewell, and that's madness.But visiting Marysville would be worse."

"Oh, no, it wouldn't. Nobody knows methere. I was never in the place in my life.It'll be a lot safer than Farewell."

"B-but I'm afraid! I know something willhappen to you! I know it! I know it!"

"Nothin'll happen," said Loudon, acutely

conscious that the situation was getting outof hand.

Presently his worst fears were realized.Kate, genuine misery in her dark eyes,stared at him silently. Her hands weregripped together so that the knucklesshowed white. Suddenly she turned sidewise, flung an elbow over the back of thechair and buried her face in her hands. Shebegan to cry softly.

"Oh!" she wailed, her shoulders shaking."Oh, I love you so! I love you so! And youdon't care—you don't care a bit!"

Sobs racked her whole body. Shecompletely lost control of herself andburst into a storm of passionate weeping.

To Loudon it seemed that this state ofaffairs endured for an age, but not morethan five minutes elapsed before Kateswayed to her feet and stumbled from theroom. She did not close the door, andLoudon could hear her muffled gasps asshe strove with her distress.

At that moment it seemed to him that thegirl who had called him an ignorantpuncher was a wraith of the dim and mistypast. Certainly the present Kate Saltounwas a different person. She no longerflirted, she was plainly sorry for what shehad done, and apparently she loved himutterly.

No man can remain unmoved while abeautiful woman weeps for love of him.

Loudon was moved. He was impelled tocall to her, to tell her to come to him. Buthe hesitated. He was not at all sure that hisfeeling was any emotion other than pity.He had spent miserable weeks schoolinghimself to forget his love and her. Now hedid not know his own mind, and he couldnot decide what to do. While he layhesitating he heard the scraping of a chairbeing pushed back, the sound of her feetcrossing the floor, and the slam of thekitchen door.

Half an hour later Mrs. Mace came inlike a whirlwind. She halted in thedoorway and surveyed Loudon withunfriendly eyes. She opened her mouth asif to speak, but closed it without uttering aword, flounced back into the kitchen and

shut his door. Almost immediately sheopened it.

"Want anythin'?" she inquired,ungraciously.

"No, thank yuh just the same," repliedthe mystified Loudon.

Mrs. Mace closed the door withoutcomment. It was not opened again tillDorothy brought in his supper. Sheinquired politely after his health, but hecould see that she was displeased withhim.

"What's the matter with everybody?" heasked. "What makes Mis' Mace look at melike I was poison, an' what makes you

look as if yuh had a pain?"

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself,"said Dorothy, severely, and marched out,her back stiff as a rifle-barrel.

"I've done somethin' desperate, whateverit is," he said, addressing the closed door."I shore have. I might 'a' come to like thatDorothy girl real well—sometime maybe.But I never will now, an' that's no merryjest."

Gloomily he ate his supper. WhenDorothy entered to take away the disheshe demanded to know why he should beashamed of himself.

"Because you should!" she snapped. "I'm

not going to bandy words with you! Justwait till mother comes home—just youwait!"

After which ominous utterance shedeparted. Loudon scratched his head andthought long and deeply.

"Now I'd like to know what I've done,"he mused. "Mis' Mace don't like me alittle bit, an' that Dorothy girl talks an' actslike I'd poisoned a well or scalped adozen babies. It's one too many for me.But I'll know about it when Mis' Burr getshome, will I? That's fine, that is. I'll betshe'll explain till the cows come home.Why didn't I go to that hotel? I will assoon's I'm able. This house ain't no placefor a peace-lovin' man."

He was rather relieved that Kate nolonger came near him. It saved trouble. Hedid not quite know what he would say toKate at their next meeting. What could hesay? What, indeed? He pondered thequestion till he fell asleep, having arrivedat no conclusion.

Next morning Jim Mace came to seehim. Loudon besought Jim to help himmove to the hotel.

"What's the matter?" said the surprisedJim. "Don't my wife an' Dorothy treat yuhright?"

"Shore they do, but I don't want to bother'em no more. I'll be better off where I cancuss when I feel like it."

"Mis' Burr won't like it none, yore goin'off thisaway."

"I can't help that—I want to go."

"An' my wife won't like it, neither.Lordy, Tom, yuh don't know my wife.She'd hit the ceilin' if I was to tote yuhdown to the hotel."

"Say," exclaimed Loudon, "can't amarried man do nothin' without askin' hiswife?"

"Not if he knows what's healthy,"replied Jim Mace, warmly. "I tell yuh,Tom, yuh'll jump through a hoop if yorewife says so. Oh, yuh can laugh all yo're amind to. Wait till yo're married, an' yuh'll

see what I mean."

"I'll wait, yuh can gamble on that. Willyuh help me or do I have to walk there onmy hands?"

"I won't help yuh a step. Yuh don't knowwhat yo're askin', Tom. Honest, I'm sorry,but I wouldn't dare help yuh without Lilsaid I could. Fix it up with her an' I will."

When Jim had gone Loudon sworesoulfully, and thought with amazement ofthe manner in which Jim was under hiswife's thumb. If that was the effect ofmarriage upon a man he wanted none of it.He had no desire to be tied to any one'sapron-strings. He wished to be able tocall his soul his own. Marriage—bah!

"I want my clothes," he announced toMrs. Mace at noon.

"Oh, yuh do, do yuh?" cried the lady."Well, yuh can just want, so yuh can! Yuhwon't get 'em, an' that's flat! An' Jim Macenor nobody else ain't goin' to help yuhdown to that hotel. Yo're a-goin' to stickright here. Jim told me yuh wanted to go,an' what I told him was a-plenty. Here yuhstay till yuh go back to the ranch."

"But I want to get up. I'm gettin' plumbweary o' stayin' in bed."

"It won't hurt yuh a bit. You'll have lotso' time to think over yore sins."

"I'll get up anyhow."

"You just try it! I'd shore admire to seeyuh try it! You ain't goin' to play any fooltricks with that ankle if I have to get Jiman' a few o' the boys to hogtie yuh. Tellyuh what I will do. To-morrow, if you'llgive me yore word not to leave the housetill Mis' Burr or I say you can, I'll give yuhyore clothes an' you can sit in the kitchen."

"I suppose I'll have to," grumbledLoudon.

"You shore will if yuh want to get up,"stated the uncompromising lady.

"All right. I give yuh my word. Lemmeget up now. The ankle feels fine."

"To-morrow, to-morrow—not one

second sooner."

CHAPTER XVII

MRS. BURR RELIEVES HER MIND

Loudon, sitting comfortably in a bigchair, his lame ankle supported on anupturned cracker-box, gazed at the worldwithout through the frame of the kitchendoorway. Leaving his bed had raised hisspirits appreciably. He rolled and smokedcigarettes and practised the road-agent'sspin in pleasant anticipation of the day

when he would ride away on hisoccasions.

He wondered what luck Telescope andthe boys were having. Since SwingTunstall's visit no news had come from theFlying M. Humanly, if selfishly, he hopedthat the trailing would meet with nosuccess till he was able to take a hand.His altruism was not proof against hisexceedingly lively desire to share in thedownfall of the 88 outfit.

He essayed to draw Mrs. Mace andDorothy into conversation, but both ladieswere grumpy, and he gave it up in disgust.He found himself listening for Kate'sfootstep. Awkward as their meetingundoubtedly would be, his dread of it was

wearing off.

But Kate Saltoun did not appear. Loudonwas too stubborn to make inquiries, andMrs. Mace and Dorothy vouchsafed noinformation. In fact, save to squabble withhim, they rarely opened their mouths in hispresence.

A week later Loudon, a home-madecrutch under his armpit, was able tohobble about a little. Within two weeks hediscarded the crutch and, having obtainedpermission from Mrs. Mace, limped to thecorral and overhauled his saddle. Thatafternoon Mrs. Burr returned. Loudon sawher first and crab-footed to the other sideof the corral. The precise nature of his sinwas not clear to him, but Dorothy's words

had been disquieting. And now "mother"was home.

Like a disobedient small boy Loudonwished to put off the interview as long aspossible. But there was no escape for him.Mrs. Burr marched out to the corral andcornered him.

"How's Scotty?" inquired Loudon,affecting an ease of manner he was farfrom feeling.

"Scotty's doin' very well," said Mrs.Burr, eying him grimly. "He don't need meno more. That's why I'm here. Young man,I ain't pleased with yuh. I ain't a bitpleased with yuh."

"Why, ma'am, I dunno what yuh mean."

"Yuh will before I'm through. Gimmethat saddle-blanket to set on. There! Now,Mister Man, I'm goin' to talk to yuh like Iwas yore mother, an' I expect yuh to take itthat way."

"Shore, ma'am, fly at it. I'm a-listenin'."

"Do yuh remember a certain evenin'down at the Bar S when yuh'd just rid infrom Farewell with the mail an' someribbon for Kate Saltoun?"

Loudon nodded.

"Well, Kate asked yuh to come out onthe porch, an' yuh didn't come. Yes, SamBlakely was there. Yore not comin' at her

invite riled Kate. She allowed yuh didn'tgive a hoot for her, an' when Blakelyproposed she took him. She was hoppin'mad with you, an' she was bound to teachyuh a lesson.

"No, don't interrupt. Wait till I'mthrough, an' yuh can talk all yo're a mindto. Before that evenin' it'd been nip an'tuck between you an' Sam Blakely. An'you was slow. My fathers! you was slowabout speakin' yore little piece! Tom, agirl don't like for a man to keep his mouthshut. If he loves her, let him say so. An'you didn't say so.

"Then again, Kate was flattered byBlakely's attention. What girl wouldn't be?Tom, yuh've got to remember a girl's mind

ain't built like a man's. She don't reasonthe same way. She can't. Then, again,every girl is a coquette. Take thehomeliest slabsided critter in creation, an'at heart she's just as much of a coquette asa she-angel with a pretty figger. They can'thelp it. It's born in 'em like their teeth are.

"An' you men don't take that into account.You think the girl you admire ain't got noright to look at nobody but you, an' thatshe's got to be all ready to fall into yorearms when you say the word. An' if shedon't do these things yuh rise up in the airlike a mean pony an' go cavortin' offsayin', 'Drat the women!' I know yuh.Yo're all alike."

"But, ma'am, I——"

"No time for 'I's' now. Like I saysbefore, yuh can talk later. Well, here'sKate Saltoun—pretty as all git-out, an'assayin' twelve ounces o' real woman tothe pound, troy. Naturally, like I says,she's a coquette an' don't know her ownmind about the boys. None of 'em don't. Ididn't. Well, times Kate knows she lovesyou, an' times she thinks she lovesBlakely."

"How did she know I loved her? I hadn'tsaid a word about it."

"My fathers! don't yuh s'pose a womanknows when a man loves her? He doesn'thave to tell her. She knows. Well, as Iwas sayin', she's a-waverin' this way an'that, an' then along comes that evenin' you

don't go out on the porch, an' she kind o'guesses she loves Blakely an' she takesthat party. Mind yuh, she thought she loveshim. Kate's honest. She couldn't lie toherself."

"She did when she said I drawed first,"said Loudon in a low voice. "I can't getover that, somehow."

"Tom, at the time you an' Blakely wascuttin' down on each other Kate wasexcited. She couldn't 'a' seen thingsstraight. She told me she thought yuhdrawed first. I believe her—why can'tyou?"

"But I didn't draw first."

"I know yuh didn't, but I believe Katewhen she says she thought you did drawfirst. That's what I mean. Under thecircumstances, yuh'd ought to believe her,too. But never mind about that now. Youcut stick an' come here to the Bend. An'Kate begun to find out there was somethin'missin'. Somehow, the Bar S without youdidn't seem like the Bar S. Before yuh litout she'd gotten used to havin' yuh around.

"Yuh don't miss a saddle, Tom, till yuhhave to ride bareback. Same way withKate. She missed yuh, an' as every daywent by she missed yuh more an' more.Then it come to her. She knowed the manshe loved, an' that feller was you, yuh big,thick-skulled lummox! Oh, if you wasfifteen years younger I'd lay yuh over my

knee an' wear out a quirt on yuh for bein' afool! I never could abide a fool. But yuh'llknow somethin' before I get through."

"Don't mind me, ma'am."

"I don't—not a bit! I like you, an' I justlove that Kate girl, or I wouldn't be a-settin' here now. Well, when Kate knowedher own mind at last, she gave Blakelyback his ring, an' that settled him. Shewanted you back, an' the only way shecould think of to get yuh back was to goafter yuh. So she done it. An' you had tofight with her an' drive her away! She justcouldn't wait for the stage. She done hireda buckboard an' drove back to the Bar S.She made Dorothy an' Lil promise not totell yuh she'd gone. They told me. She

wouldn't tell 'em what had happenedbetween you two. But she was cryin' whenshe left, so don't tell me yuh didn't fightwith her.

"Lil an' Dorothy guessed it right away,an' they're mad at yuh, you bet. Yuh'vebusted Kate's heart, that's what yuh'vedone. Now ain't yuh ashamed o' yoreself?Don't yuh think yuh didn't act just right?Don't yuh think yuh might 'a' been just alittle bit forgivin' when you could see thegirl loved yuh with all her heart?"

"She said she'd never marry a ignorantpuncher."

"I know. She told me about that time inthe Bar S kitchen. Don't yuh understand—

can't yuh get it through yore head thathappened before she woke up to the factthat you was the only feller on earth?"

"Did she tell yuh all this?"

"She did. Poor little girl, she come to meone evenin', an' she was all wrought up. Iseen somethin' was the matter, an' Iknowed it would do her a heap o' good toget it off her chest, an' I got it out of herlittle by little. She was sobbin' like ayoung one before she was through, an' Iwas a-holdin' her in my arms, an' I wascryin' some myself. She made me promisenot to let on to you, but I ain't a-goin' to setby an' see her hurt when a word or twofrom me can set things straight. It's the firsttime I ever broke my word, but I don't

care. I aim to help her all I can."

"Say, did she tell yuh what Blakelydone?"

"No. What did he do?"

"I dunno. She hates him worse'n poisonnow. He's done somethin', but shewouldn't tell me what."

"He's been botherin' her likely, theskunk! You'd ought to crawl his hump firstchance yuh get."

"Maybe I will."

"Looky here. I ain't quite through. Whatdid you'n her fight about?"

"Nothin', ma'am. Honest. I'm there inbed, an' all of a sudden she busts out cryin'an' says she loves me, an' then she goesinto the kitchen an' pretty soon she goesout—an' she never does come back. Thenin comes Mis' Mace an' she acts mightyunpleasant, an' Dorothy acts the same, an' Ibelieve I'd ruther been at the hotel,considerin'."

"I s'pose yuh just lay there like a bumpon a log after Kate told yuh she lovedyuh."

"Well, ma'am, I—I—what could I do,ma'am? I couldn't get up."

"Yuh might 'a' spoken."

"I couldn't think o' nothin' to say,ma'am," pleaded Loudon.

"Well, yuh poor tongue-tied galoot! Yuhdon't deserve no luck, yuh don't! Well, I'vesaid my say. I've done all I could. Yuh gotto do the rest yore own self. But if yuhdon't go an' do it like a man, then I'mdisappointed in yuh."

"Did Kate tell Mis' Mace an' yoredaughter what she told you?"

"No, she didn't. She only told me."

"Then they took an awful lot for granted.They acted like Kate an' me was in lovewith each other."

"Well, my land! They could see Katecared for yuh. Anybody with half an eyecould see that. Naturally they didn't s'poseyuh was actin' like a complete idjit. Whatyuh goin' to do?"

"I dunno."

"Yuh dunno! Yuh dunno! An' Kate all butgoes on her knees to tell yuh how sorryshe is for what she done! Not only that, but

she says she loves yuh besides! An' allyuh can say is yuh dunno. My land! I can'tsay what I think o' yuh."

"But I dunno, I tell yuh, Mis' Burr. I wishI'd stayed in Fort Creek County. This heretown o' Paradise Bend is shore a hot-house o' matchmakers. First Scotty—thenyou—then Mis' Mace. Fine lot o' Cupids,you are. Can't let a fellah alone. Any onewould think I couldn't manage my ownaffairs."

"Yuh can't. In a case like this yuh needhelp."

"I'm gettin' it."

"Which I hope it does yuh some good.

Now I ain't a-goin' to say another word.I've told yuh just exactly what yuh neededto be told. Do what yuh think best. How'sthe ankle gettin' along?"

"Can't bear my full weight on it yet."

"No, nor yuh won't for a few days. In aweek yuh can go out to the ranch if yuhlike. Scotty wants to see yuh but he saidspecial yuh wasn't to think o' comin' tillyuh was all right. Oh, shore, yuh'd like tolope right off an' have the ankle go backon yuh an' be no good at all while the resto' the boys are out in the hills. Don'tworry, I'll tend to yore interests—an'Scotty's. I'll see that yuh don't go."

"I wasn't thinkin' o' goin', ma'am," hastily

disclaimed Loudon. "Are Telescope an'the outfit havin' any luck?"

"Not a smidgen. The boys got in justbefore I left. They trailed the hoss-bandover a hundred miles an' then lost the trailnear Miner Mountain. A rainstorm did thattrick, an' they couldn't pick up the trailagain nohow."

"Swing Tunstall was right. He said ifthere was a rainstorm round, them rustlerswould locate it."

"They did."

"The outfit ain't quit, has it?"

"They're a-goin' out again. Scotty says hewon't quit till he finds his hosses."

Loudon spent the following week inunobtrusive shadowing of Pete O'Leary.But not once did that young man leave theconfines of Paradise Bend. The fellowspent all of his time loafing in the vicinityof the Burr house or playing poker at theThree Card. He may have known that hewas being watched. For Loudon's methodswere not those of a Pinkerton shadow.

When the time came for Loudon todepart, Mrs. Burr followed him out to thecorral.

"Tom," said she, when his horse wassaddled, "Tom, I like you an' Kate. I likeyuh both an awful lot. I'd shore enjoy

seein' yuh both happy. Forgive her, Tom,an' yuh will be happy. I'm an old woman,but I've seen a lot o' life, an' it's taught methat love is the biggest thing in the world.If yuh got it yuh don't need nothin' else.Don't throw it away. Don't. Now don'tforget to remember me to that oldreprobate, Scotty Mackenzie, an' tell himme an' Dorothy are comin' out to see himin a couple o' days."

The new Flying M cook, a citizen of theBend, greeted Loudon with fervour.

"Thank Gawd yuh've come!" heexclaimed. "That there Scotty is shore the—— invalid I ever seen! Forty times aday reg'lar he r'ars an' sw'ars 'cause yuhain't arrove yet, an' forty times a day he

does likewise for fear yuh'll come beforeyore ankle's all right. Yo're the brightapple of his eye, Tom. How yuh done it, Idon't see. I can't please his R'yal Highnessin a million years."

"Oh, it's a cinch when yuh know how,"grinned Loudon. "Where's the outfit?"

"Most of 'em are out with Telescope.Doubleday an' Swing Tunstall are drivin'a bunch o' hosses over to the north range.Mister Mackenzie is a-settin' up in theoffice doin' like I said."

Loudon went at once to the office.Scotty, propped in an armchair, evincedno sign of the restlessness mentioned bythe cook. He shook hands calmly and

smiled cheerfully.

"Glad to see yuh," he said. "Set down an'be happy. How's the peg? All right, huh?That's good. Me? Oh, I'm pullin' throughlike a greased fish. I'll be poppin' roundjovial an' free in another week or so.About them rustlers, now. I think——"

"Say, Scotty," interrupted Loudon,eagerly, "I got a small jag o' news. I dunnowhat yore plans are, but I'll gamble what Igot to say'll make a difference."

"Let her flicker."

For half an hour Loudon spoke rapidly.At the end of his recital the eyes of ScottyMackenzie were cold and hard and very

bright.

"What's yore plan?" he queried.

"Go to Farewell an' Marysville. What Ifind out in them two places will show mewhat to do next. I'm goin' to Farewellanyhow on my own hook."

"If I say no, would yuh quit me now?"

"I'd have to. I got business with a certainparty in Farewell. After I'd finished up I'dcome back o' course—if yuh still wantedme."

"Well, I don't say no. I think yuh've hit it.I knowed yuh was Opportunity with a bigO when I hired yuh. Yuh've proved it. Flyat it, Tom, an' prove it some more. Get the

evidence, an' I'll do the rest. We'll wipeout the 88 ranch, hide, hoof, an' taller.There ain't a ranch in Sunset County thatwon't help. We can count in the Cross-in-a-box, the Double Diamond A, an' theHawgpen, in the Lazy River country, too.Oh, we'll fix 'em. How many o' the boysdo yuh want? I don't begrudge 'em to yuh,but go as light as yuh can. I still got quite afew hosses left to wrangle."

"Gimme Telescope."

"Is he enough? I can spare another—twoif I got to."

"Well, yuh see, I was countin' onborrowin' Johnny Ramsay from JackRichie, an' there's Chuck Morgan o' the

Bar S. I guess I can get him."

"Get him, an' I'll give him a job after it'sall over. Wish I could get Johnny Ramsay,too, but he'd never quit Richie. Well, yuhshore done noble in findin' out that truckabout Pete O'Leary."

"Yuh've got to thank Miss Saltoun forthat. She done it all."

"Her! Old Salt's daughter! Say, I take itall back. She can come out here whenevershe wants. I'll be proud to shake her hand,I will. Well, I did hope it'd be Dorothy,but now I suppose it's Miss Saltoun.Dunno's I blame yuh. Dunno's I blameyuh."

"As usual, yo're a-barkin' up the wrongstump. I'm gun-shy of all women, an' Idon't want to talk about 'em."

"Oh, all right, all right," said Scotty,hastily. "How soon can yuh start?"

"Right now, soon's I get another hoss."

"Take Brown Jug. He'll tote yuh fromhell to breakfast an' never feel it. Yuh'llfind the outfit som'ers over north o' MinerMountain, I guess. Tell Telescope I wanthim to go with yuh, an' the rest of 'em areto come home on the jump. Doubleday an'Swing have got their hands full twentytimes over. First thing I know there won'tbe a cayuse left on the ranch."

Two days later Loudon and Laguerrerode into Rocket and spent the night at thehotel. The landlord, Dave Sinclair, had aninteresting tale to tell.

"Yest'day," said Dave, "Lanky Bob findsJim Hallaway's body in a gully near theBend trail. Jim had been shot in the back,an' he'd been dead quite a while. Jim an'his brother Tom have a little ranch nearthe Twin Peaks, an' Tom hadn't missedhim none 'cause Jim, when he left theranch, expected to be gone a month.

"Come to find out, Jim had been ridin' abald-face pinto. Accordin' to Tom'sdescription that pinto was the livin' imageof the one that friend o' Block's was ridin'the day they come into my place a-lookin'

for information. The sheriff's got a warrantout for that Cutting gent."

"Hope he gets him," said Loudon; "buthe won't. He's got too big a start. I'd shoreadmire to know what he done with myhoss."

"You hoss brak hees laig," statedLaguerre. "Sartain shore dat whathappen."

"I guess yo're right," glumly agreedLoudon. "He wouldn't change Ranger forno bald-face pinto less'n the chestnut wasout o' whack for keeps."

CHAPTER XVIII

A MURDER AND A KILLING

Loudon and Laguerre did not ridedirectly to Farewell. The three monthsLoudon had given Blakely would not beup for five days. The two men spent theintervening time in the country betweenthe Farewell trail and the DogsoldierRiver. Of their quarry they found no trace.

Not at all disheartened, however, theyrode into Farewell on the morning of theday set for the meeting. As usual, BillLainey was dozing in front of his hotel.

They put their horses in the corral, andawakened Lainey.

"Shake hands with Mr. Laguerre, Bill,"said Loudon, "an' tell me what yuh know."

"Glad to know yuh, Mr. Laguerre,"wheezed the fat man. "I only know onething, Tom, an' that is, Farewell ain't noplace for you. I've heard how there's awarrant out for yuh."

"Is Block in town?"

"Not just now. He rid out yest'day. Buthe may be back any time. The Sheriff o'Sunset's here. He's lookin' for RufeCutting. Seems Rufe's been jumpin'sideways up north—killed a feller or

somethin'. The Sunset Sheriff allows Rufedrifted south in company with Block.Block, he says he never seen Cutting.Looked like a shootin' for a minute, butBlock he passed it off, an' left town 'bout ahour later."

"Well, the Sheriff o' Sunset don't wantme," observed Loudon, "an' he's a goodfellah, anyway. Guess I'll stick here to-day. Maybe Block'll come back an' makeit amusin'. See anythin' of our friend, Mr.Sam Blakely?"

"Sam don't never drift in no more,"replied Lainey. "Ain't seen him since Idunno when. Some o' the boys do now an'then, but even they don't come like theyuseter. Why, last Monday, when Rudd an'

Shorty Simms sifted in, was the first timein three weeks that any o' the 88 boys hadbeen in town. Shorty said they waspowerful busy at the ranch."

"That's good. It's probably the first timethey ever was busy. See yuh later, Bill.S'long."

"So long."

"I'll bet they was busy them threeweeks," said Loudon, as he and Laguerrewalked away. "The evidence is beginnin'to show itself, ain't it?"

"You bet," assented Laguerre, his eyesshining.

Most of the citizens they met regarded

Loudon with noncommittal eyes, but a fewof the glances were frankly unfriendly.The two men entered the Happy HeartSaloon, there being sounds of revelrywithin.

On a table sat the Sheriff of SunsetCounty. He was heartily applauding theefforts of a perspiring gentleman who wasdancing a jig. Loudon perceived that thesheriff, while not precisely drunk, was yetnot sober. His gestures were free and hislanguage freer.

There were at least a score of men in thesaloon, and they were all Block's closefriends. They muttered among themselvesat Loudon's entrance. The story of Block'starring and feathering had lost nothing in

transmission.

Loudon and Laguerre made their way tothe far end of the bar and ordered drinks.With the wall at their backs they werereasonably secure from treachery. TheSheriff of Sunset nodded to the two menfrom the Bend and continued to shoutencouragement to the jigging citizen.Finally, the dancer succumbed toexhaustion. The sheriff slid from the table.

"Well, I got to be wrigglin' along," hesaid. "See yuh later."

"Not yet, Sheriff, not yet," protested atall man with wolfish features. "Haveanother drink first. Just one. Step up,gents, step up. Name yore poison."

"No, not another one," said the sheriff,but his tone lacked conviction.

He had another, two in fact. Again hestarted for the door. But the wolf-facedman barred the way.

"Sheriff," he wheedled, "what yuh say toa little game? Just one little game. Onlyone. Yuh can't be in such a all-fired hurryyuh can't stop for just one."

"I got to get Rufe Cutting," said thesheriff. "I ain't got no time for poker."

"Now, looky here, Sheriff," coaxed thetempter, "yuh'll stand just as much show o'gettin' Rufe right here in Farewell as yuhwill anywhere else. What's the use o'

ridin' the range an' workin' yoreself todeath, when yuh can stay here cool andcomf'table?"

"Aw, shut up! I'm a-goin'."

"Well, o' course, if yo're broke——"

"I ain't broke. What do——"

"No offence, Sheriff. No harm meant.None whatever."

"I'll play yuh one game an' that's all.C'mon."

The sheriff played more than one game,for he won the first. He continued to win.He thought no more of Rufe Cutting. Andhe sat with his back toward the doorway.

Which position is the most eminentlyunsafe of any that an officer of the lawmay assume. Once, during that time,Laguerre suggested to Loudon that they goelsewhere. But Loudon had whispered:

"Wait. There's somethin' crooked here."

So they waited, Loudon watching for heknew not what piece of evil, Laguerremystified but thoroughly prepared foreventualities. It was noticeable that,excepting the card-players, the men in theroom were afflicted with a strangerestlessness. They moved aimlessly about;they hitched their chairs to new positions;they conversed by fits and starts; theythrew frequent glances toward thedoorway.

Suddenly it happened.

A squat-bodied man with bat earsappeared on the threshold. As at a signal,the three men playing with the sheriff flungthemselves down on the floor. The hand ofthe squat-bodied man shot up and forward.A revolver cracked twice, and the Sheriffof Sunset County quietly crumpled acrossthe card-table.

Through the swirling smoke of thedischarge two red streaks flashed as thesix-shooters of Loudon and Laguerrebarked in unison. The squat-bodied manfell forward on his face.

Head and shoulders on the floor of thesaloon, his legs on the sidewalk, he lay

motionless. Side by side, the souls of thesheriff and his murderer sped homeward.

The habitués of the Happy Heartunhurriedly deserted their points ofvantage against the wall, on the floor, orbehind the bar, and gathered about thecorpse of the squat-bodied man. Theygazed upon the body for a brief space oftime, then, one by one, they steppedcarefully over it and departed.

"Gents," squeaked the perturbedbartender, "would yuh mind goin' out inthe street? I—I'm goin' to close up."

"It's only the mornin'," said Loudon."Why close up?"

"I'm sick. I got indigestion right bad," thebartender explained.

Indeed, the bartender looked quite ill.His complexion had turned a pasty yellowand his teeth were clicking together.

"Yuh look right bad," agreed Loudon."But yo're mistaken about closin' up. Yo'rea-goin' to keep open. Telescope, let's getthe sheriff spread out right."

They pushed two tables together. Thenthey lifted the sheriff's body and laid it onthe tables. They unbuckled the spurs,straightened the limbs, covered the stillface with the neck handkerchief, and putthe hat over the gaping wound in the chestwhere the bullets had come out. When they

had done all that they could they needed adrink. The shivering bartender servedthem.

"For Gawd's sake, gents!" he pleaded."Block'll be here in a minute! Go out inthe street, won't yuh?"

"'Block'll be here,'" repeated Loudon."How do yuh know he'll be here?"

The bartender began to stutter. Hiscomplexion became yellower. Loudonturned to Laguerre.

"Talks funny, don't he?" he observed."Can't say nothin' but 'I.'"

Reaching across the bar, he seized thebartender by the shoulder.

"Say, fellah," he continued, "how do yuhknow so much about Block?"

"I—I—I——" sputtered the bartender.

"I thought Block had left town. How doyuh know he's back?"

The bartender changed his tune.

"Ow! Ow!" he yelled. "Yo're hurtin' me!My shoulder! Ow!"

"I'll hurt yuh worse if yuh don't spit outwhat yuh know about Block an' hisdoin's."

"He—he—oh, I can't! I can't!" wailedthe bartender.

"Block shore has you an' the rest o' theseprairie-dogs buffaloed. I just guess yes.Well, yuh needn't tell me. I'm a prettygood guesser myself. Telescope, let'syou'n me go call on Block."

"I am you," said Laguerre, and slidthrough a rear window. Loudon followed.They hastened along the rear of the line ofhouses and crouched beneath thewindowsill of a small two-room shack atthe end of the street. There were sounds ofa hot discussion in progress in the frontroom.

"Guess he's home!" whispered Loudon."Might as well go in."

Gently they opened the back door, and

very quietly they tiptoed across the floorof the back room to a closed door.

"We've got to hurry," a voice wassaying.

"Shore," said the voice of Sheriff Block."You three cover 'em through the backwindow when me an' the rest come in thefront door. Yuh know there won't be nofuss if yore fingers slip on the trigger. I'drather bury a man any day than arrest him."

With a quick motion Loudon flung openthe door.

"'Nds up!" cried he, sharply, coveringthe roomful.

Ten pairs of hands clawed upward.

There were eleven men in the room. Everyone of the lot, save the eleventh man, hadthe impression that the six-shooters ofLoudon and Laguerre bore upon himpersonally.

The eleventh citizen, being nearest thedoor and possessing a gambler's spirit,attempted to reach the street. He reached it—on his face. For Loudon had driven anaccurate bullet through the fleshy part ofhis thigh.

"The next fellah," harshly announcedLoudon, "who makes any fool breaks willget it halfway beneath his mind an' hismouth. There's a party in the corner, himwith the funny face—he ain't displayin'enough enthusiasm in reachin' for the

ceilin'. If he don't elevate his flippers rightsmart an' sudden, he won't have no troubleat all in reachin' the stars."

The biceps of the gentleman of the faceimmediately cuddled his ears. The ten menwere now painfully rigid. They saidnothing. They did not even think to swear.They knew what they deserved and theydreaded their deserts.

"Telescope," observed Loudon, softly,"s'pose yuh go round an' unbuckle theirbelts. Better go through 'em, too. Theymight carry shoulder-holsters under theirshirts. Take the hono'ble Mister SheriffBlock first. That's right. Now, MisterSheriff, go an' stand in that corner, face tothe side wall, an' keep a-lookin' right at

the wall, too. I wouldn't turn my headnone, neither. Yuh see, I don't guessthere'd be no fuss made if my fingershould slip on the trigger. It's a heapeasier to bury a man than arrest him, ain'tit?"

Loudon laughed without mirth. Block'snine friends, murder in their eyes, staredat Loudon. He stared back, his lips drawnto a white line.

"Yo're a healthy lot o' killers,"commented he.

The last belt and six-shooter thudded onthe floor just as Loudon perceived that thewounded citizen in the street wasendeavouring to crawl away.

"Telescope," he said, "I guess now theparty in the street would feel a heap easierin here with all his friends."

Telescope marched out into the streetand removed the wounded man's gun.Then he seized him by the collar, draggedhim into the shack, and dumped him in acorner. Meanwhile, Loudon had lined upthe nine beltless citizens beside Blockagainst the side wall. They stood,stomachs pressed against the planks, aprey to violent emotions.

"Yuh can rest yore hands against thewall," said Loudon, kindly, "an' that's justall yuh can do."

"Gimme a drink!" gasped the wounded

man.

Telescope scooped up a dipperful fromthe bucket under the table. When the manhad drunk, Telescope proceeded to cutaway his trouser-leg and wash andexpertly bandage the wound. His work ofmercy finished, the efficient Telescopetook post near the doorway where hecould watch the street.

Loudon seated himself on the edge of thetable and rolled a cigarette one-handed. Asilence, marred only by the flurriedbreathing of the stuck-up gentlemen, fellupon the room.

"Block," said Loudon, suddenly,"where's Blakely?"

Block maintained his attitude of silentprotest. Loudon gently repeated hisquestion. Block made no reply.

Bang-g! Block convulsively shrank toone side. The line of citizens shook.Smoke curled lazily from the muzzle ofLoudon's six-shooter.

"Block," observed Loudon, serenely,"get back in position. That's right. Nexttime, instead o' shadin' yore ear I'll grazeit. Now where's Blakely?"

"I dunno," replied Block in a chokedtone of voice.

"Well, maybe yuh don't, maybe yuhdon't. Ain't he at the ranch no more?"

"I ain't been to no ranch."

"I didn't say yuh had, did I?" mildlyreproved Loudon. "But now that yuh'vebrought it up, where did yuh pick upShorty Simms?"

"What do yuh mean?"

"Oh, I'll explain to yuh. I always do that.Habit I got. Yuh see, Block, yest'day afteryou an' the Sheriff o' Sunset had a fewwords yuh left town. To-day in comesShorty Simms an' kills the sheriff—shootshim in the back, which is natural for akiller like Shorty.

"Well, Block, between the time of yoreridin' away yest'day an' the murder o' the

sheriff to-day a fellah on a hoss like yoreswould just about have time to ride to the88 ranch an' back. O' course the fellahwouldn't have time for pickin' posies onthe way, but he could make it by steadyridin'. Think hard now, Block, think hard.Ain't it just possible yuh rid over to the88?"

"No, —— yuh, I didn't!"

"No? Well, now, ain't that curious? Ishore thought yuh did. Telescope, I think Isee a couple o' hosses in Block's corral.Would yuh mind ridin' herd on this bunchwhile I go out an' look at 'em?"

Loudon went out into the street. Fardown the street a group of men had

gathered. Otherwise the street wasdeserted. Even Bill Lainey haddisappeared.

Loudon stopped and stared at the distantfigures. They made no hostile motions, butappeared to hold converse with eachother. One detached himself from thegroup and came toward Loudon. He sawthat it was his friend, Mike Flynn, the one-legged proprietor of the Blue PigeonStore. The red-headed Irishman, his moutha-grin from ear to ear, halted in front ofLoudon and stretched out his hamlike paw.

"H'are yuh, Tom, me lad," he said,giving Loudon's hand a terrific grip. "I'mglad to see yuh, an' that's the truth. Othersare not so glad, I'm thinkin'." He peered

through the doorway. "I thought so. 'T's allright, Tommy, me an' me friends is withyuh heart an' soul. Though Farewell don'tlook it they's a few solid min like meselfin the place who are all for law an' orderan' a peaceful life. But they ain't enough ofus, djuh see, to get all we want to once.

"Still, we can do somethin', so, Tommy,me lad, go as far as yuh like with Blockan' his constituents yuh got inside. Put 'emover the jumps. Me an' me frinds will seethat they's no attimpts made at a riscue.We will that. Be aisy. If yuh have a chancecome to the Blue Pigeon. Not a word. Nota word. I know yo're busy."

Mike Flynn returned whence he came.Loudon was considerably relieved by

what the Irishman had said. For only ten ofthe men who had been in the Happy Heartwere in Block's shack, and the absence ofthe others had given him much food forthought. He hastened to inspect the horsesin the corral. Within three minutes he hadresumed his seat on Block's table.

"'Course I ain't doubtin' yore word,Block," he observed, "but one o' themhosses is yore black, an' the other hoss isa gray pony branded 88 an' packin' asaddle with Shorty Simms's name stampedon the front o' the cantle. Both hosses looklike they'd been rode fast an' far. Well,Shorty's dead, anyway. You yellow pup,yuh didn't have nerve enough to shoot itout with the sheriff yore own self! Yuhhad to go get one o' Blakely's killers to do

yore dirty work for yuh."

"Wat you say, Tom?" queried Laguerre."Keel heem un tak hees hair, huh?"

"It'd shore improve him a lot. I got aplan, Telescope. Just wait a shake. Block,where's Rufe Cutting an' what happened tomy hoss Ranger?"

"I dunno nothin' about Cutting," mumbledBlock.

Instantly Loudon's six-shooter cracked.With a yelp of pain Block leaped a yardhigh and clapped a hand to his head.

"Up with them hands!" rapped outLoudon. "Up with 'em!"

Block, shaking like a cedar branch in abreeze, obeyed. From a ragged gash in theDarwinian tubercle of his right ear bloodtrickled down his neck.

"Block," said Loudon in his gentlesttone, "I wish yuh'd give me someinformation about Rufe. I'll ask yuh again,an' this time if yuh don't answer I'llventilate yore left ear, an' I'll use one o'these guns on the floor here. Yuh got tomake allowances for ragged work. I won'tknow the gun like I do my own, an' I maymake more of a shot than I mean to. Yuhcan't tell."

He drew a six-shooter from one of thedropped holsters, and cocked it.

"Where's Rufe Cutting an' my hossRanger?" continued Loudon.

"I dunno! I tell yuh I dunno!" squealedthe desperate sheriff.

One of the two guns in Loudon's handsspoke twice. Block fell to his knees, hishands gripping his head.

"Get up!" shouted Loudon. "Get up! It'sonly yore ear again. I used my own gunafter all!"

Then, both what he had undergone at thehands of Block and the loss of his petsuddenly overwhelming him, he leaped atthe crouching sheriff and kicked him.

"You —— murderer!" he gritted through

his teeth.

"Where's my hoss? Where is he? ——yore soul! What did Rufe do to him? Tellme, or by —— I'll beat yuh to death herean' now!"

And with his wire-bound Mexican quirtLoudon proceeded savagely to lash thesheriff. Loudon was a strong man. Hestruck with all his might. The doublethongs bit through vest and flannel shirtand raised raw welts on the flesh.

The sheriff writhed around and flunghimself blindly at his torturer. But Loudonkicked the sheriff in the chest and hurledhim, a groaning heap, into his corner. Nordid he cease to thrash him with the quirt.

Between blows he bawled demands fornews of his horse. Loudon felt sure thatRanger was dead, but he wished to clinchthe fact.

"He's gone! Oh, my Gawd! He's gonesouth!" screamed Block, unable towithhold utterance another second.

Loudon held the quirt poised over hisshoulder.

"Yuh mean Rufe Cutting?" he inquired.

"Both of 'em! Rufe an' the hoss! They'reboth gone!"

"Yuh mean Rufe has took my hossaway?"

"Yes! Yes! Don't hit me with that again."

Loudon did not know whether to believethe sheriff. It was more than possible thatBlock was lying to escape furtherpunishment. Loudon stared at him. Hemade an ugly picture lying there on thefloor, his face a network of red welts. Hisshirt was dabbled and stained with theblood from his wounded ears.

"I was goin' to give yuh a chance," saidLoudon, slowly. "I was aimin' to give yuhyore gun an' let yuh shoot it out with me.But I can't do that now. Yuh ain't in noshape for shootin'. It'd be like murder todown yuh, an' I ain't goin' to practisemurder even on a dog like you. I'm kind o'sorry I feel that way about it. Yuh don't

deserve to live a minute."

"You keel heem," put in Laguerre. "Shetry for keel you een de Ben'. Or I keelheem. I don' care. So she die, dat'senough."

"Can't be did, Telescope."

"I tell you, my frien', you let heem go,she mak plenty trouble."

"We've got to risk that. Yuh can't murdera man, Telescope. Yuh just can't."

Laguerre shrugged expressive shouldersand said no more. It was Loudon'sbusiness. He was boss of the round-up.

"Yuh see how it is, Block," observed

Loudon. "I can't down yuh now, but nexttime we meet it's shoot on sight. Next timeyuh see Blakely tell him I expected tomeet him here in Farewell. I don't guesshe'll come now. Still, on the off chancethat he does, me an' my friend will stay tillsunset. Telescope, I feel sort o' empty.Guess I'll go in the back room an' rustlesome chuck."

While Loudon and Laguerre were eating,the sheriff fainted. The strain of standingupright combined with the rough handlinghe had received had proved too much forhim. Laguerre threw the contents of thewater bucket over the sheriff.

When the sheriff recoveredconsciousness Loudon gave the nine

citizens permission to sit on the floor. Andthey sat down stiffly.

Slowly the long hours passed.Occasionally Loudon walked to the doorand looked up and down the street.Apparently Farewell dozed.

But it was far from being asleep. Hereand there, leaning against the house wallsin attitudes of ease, were men. These menwere posted in pairs, and Loudon sawMike Flynn stumping from one couple toanother. One pair was posted across thestreet from the sheriff's shack. The firsttime Loudon appeared in the doorwaythese two nodded, and one waved his armin friendly fashion. There were onlytwelve in all of these sentinels, but their

positions had been chosen with strategicwisdom. Any attempt at a rescue would bedisastrous to the rescuers.

"Well," said Loudon when the sun wasnear its setting, "we might as well bemovin', Telescope."

"Mabbeso our hosses been rustle',"suggested Laguerre.

"If they are we'll get 'em back. Ourfriends here'll fix that up O.K."

The friends glared sullenly. They wantedblood, and lots of it. They had been stuckup and reviled, two of them had beenwounded, and their self-respect had beengrievously shattered. Vengeance would be

very sweet. They wished for it with all thepower of very evil hearts.

Loudon gathered up all the cartridge-belts and six-shooters and strung themtogether. He slung the bundle over hisshoulder and addressed his captives.

"You fellahs stand on yore feet. Yo'regoin' down street with us. Telescope, I'llwait for 'em outside. Send 'em out, willyuh."

Loudon stepped into the street. One byone the men came out and were lined uptwo by two in the middle of the street.

The last man was the sheriff. He did notshamble, and he did not keep his eyes on

the ground in the manner of a broken man.It was evident that the virtue which passedwith him for courage had returned. Evenas Captain Burr had remarked, SheriffBlock was not as other men. He was asnake. Nothing but the bullet that killedhim could have any effect upon hisreptilian nature. This Loudon realized tothe full.

"I'm watchin' yuh, Block," he said. "Myhand ain't none shaky yet, even if I havebeen holdin' a gun on yuh all day."

Block shot him a venomous side glanceand then looked straight ahead.

"Git along, boys," ordered Loudon."We'll be right behind yuh."

With Loudon and Laguerre marching onthe right and left flank rear respectivelythe procession trailed down the street tillit arrived opposite Bill Lainey's hotel.There, in obedience to Loudon's sharpcommand, it halted. While Laguerreguarded the prisoners Loudon went to thecorral. He found Lainey sitting on awagon-box beside the gate, a double-barrelled shotgun across his knees. Laineywas excessively wide awake.

"Did somebody come a-lookin' in at ourhosses?" drawled Loudon.

"Somebody did," wheezed Lainey."Somebody near had both of 'em out thegate, but I had this Greener handy, an hefaded. By ——! I'd shore admire to see

any tin-horn rustle hosses out o' my corral.They're fed an' watered, Tom, an' mywife's done——"

"Yes, Mr. Loudon," interrupted Mrs.Lainey, sticking her lean head out of thekitchen window. "I knowed yuh wouldn'thave no time to eat, so I just rolled upsome canned tomatters an' canned peachesan' some beans an' some bacon an' a littlejerked beef in yore slickers. Ain't it hot?My land! I'm most roasted to death. How'dyuh like it up no'th?"

"Fine, Mis' Lainey, fine," repliedLoudon. "I'm obliged to yuh, ma'am. Ihope next time I'm in town I won't be sorushed an' I'll have time to stay awhile an'eat a reg'lar dinner. I tell yuh, ma'am, I

ain't forgot yore cookin'."

"Aw, you go 'long!" Mrs. Lainey giggledwith pleasure and withdrew her head.

"Bill," said Loudon, "yo're a jim-hickey,an' I won't forget it. Let's see—four feeds,two dinners. How much?"

"Nothin', Tom, nothin' a-tall. Not thistrip. It's on the house. This is the first timeI ever had a real chance to pay yuh backfor what yuh done for my kid. Don't saynothin', now. Tom, I kind o' guessFarewell is due to roll over soon. Me an'Mike Flynn an' Piney Jackson, theblacksmith, an' a few o' the boys aregettin' a heap tired o' Block an' his littleways."

"I thought Piney was a friend o' Block's."

"He was, but Block ain't paid for his lasteight shoein's, an' Piney can't collect, an'now he ain't got a bit o' use for the sheriff.Some day soon there's goin' to be a battle.Downin' the Sheriff o' Sunset just aboutput the hat on the climax. Folks'll take usfor a gang o' murderers. Well, I'm ready.Got this Greener an' a buffler gun an' fourhundred cartridges. Oh, I'm ready, youbet!"

Loudon, leading the two horses, rejoinedhis comrade. The animals were fractious,yet Loudon and Laguerre swung into theirsaddles without losing for an instant themagic of the drop.

"We got here without no trouble,"Loudon observed in a loud tone. "We'regoin' back the way we came. We'll hopethat nobody turns loose any artillery fromthe sidewalk. If they do you fellahs won'tlive a minute."

No shots disturbed the almost pastoralpeace of Farewell as prisoners and guardsretraced their steps. Opposite the sheriff'sshack the convoy began to lag.

"Keep a-goin'," admonished Loudon."We don't like to part with yuh just yet."

The prisoners were driven to where atall spruce grew beside the Paradise Bendtrail, three miles from Farewell.

"Yuh can stop here," said Loudon."We'll drop yore guns an' belts a couple o'miles farther on. We're goin' back to theBend, an' we'll tell the boys what a rattlin'reception yuh give me an' my friend. If yuhsee Sam Blakely, Block, don't forget totell him I was a heap disappointed not tofind him to-day. So long, sports, yo're theeasiest bunch o' longhorns I ever seen."

Loudon laughed in the sheriff's blood-caked face, and set spurs to his horse.

"How far we go, huh?" queriedLaguerre, when a fold in the groundconcealed the tall spruce.

"About four mile. There's a draw runnin'southeast. We'll ride down that. We'd

ought to be at the Cross-in-a-box roundtwo o'clock. We could turn off right afterwe dump this assortment o' cannons. Theywon't follow us to see whether I told 'emthe truth or not. They'll just keep right onbelievin' we're a-headin' for the Bend hot-foot."

"I guess dey weel. Say, my frien', whydeed'n you geet dat warran' from de sher'fun mak heem eat eet? I would, me."

"I don't want to let on I know anythin'about the warrant. Block wants to spring itnice an' easy. All right—let him."

Between two and three in the morningthey dismounted in front of the Cross-in-a-box ranch house. Loudon pushed open the

front door and walked in. He closed thedoor and set his back against it.

"Hey, Jack!" he called. "Wake up!"

"Who's there?" came in the incisivevoice of Richie, accompanied by a doubleclick.

"It's me—Tom Loudon. I want to see yuha minute."

"That's good hearin'. I'll be right out.Light the lamp, will yuh, Tom?"

Tousle-headed Jack Richie brisked intothe dim circle of lamplight and gripped hisfriend's hand. He was unfeignedly glad tosee Loudon.

"C'mon where it's light," invited Richie."What yuh standin' by the door for? I'llturn the lamp up."

"No, yuh won't. Don't touch the lamp,Jack. There's plenty o' light for mybusiness. I'm standin' here 'cause I don'twant nobody to know I come here to-night—nobody but you an' Ramsay."

"I see," said Richie. "Want a hoss?"

"No, ours'll do. Yeah, I've got a friendwith me. I can't bring him in. Got to bemovin' right quick. I just stopped to knowcould I borrow Johnny Ramsay for awhile. It's on account o' the 88 outfit."

"Yuh shore can. The 88, huh? Well, I

wish yuh luck. When yuh need any morehelp, let me know."

"Thanks, Jack. I knowed I could count onyuh."

"I'll get Johnny right away."

"No, to-morrow 'll do. There's somethin'I want Johnny to do first. I'd like him toride over to the Bar S an' tell ChuckMorgan that if he feels like makin' achange there's a job waitin' for him at theFlyin' M. I hate to take one of his menaway from Old Salt, but it's root hog ordie. I need another man, an' Chuck'll justfill the bill."

"Lemme fix it up. I can borrow Chuck

for yuh. Old Salt'll listen to me. No, Iwon't have to tell him nothin' about yorebusiness. Leave it to me."

"All right. That's better'n takin' Chuckaway from him. Yuh needn't mention noname, but yuh can guarantee to Old Saltthat Chuck's wages will be paid while he'soff, o' course. Yuh can tell Chuck on theside that Scotty Mackenzie will do thepayin'."

"Scotty, huh? I did hear how he lost abunch o' hosses. How many—twohundred, wasn't it?"

"One hundred. But that's enough."

"Yuh don't suspect the 88, do yuh? Why,

the Flyin' M is two hundred mile north."

"What's two hundred mile to the 88? An'didn't Scotty ride it just to find outwhether I was straight or a murderer?"

"He shore did," laughed Richie. "Yuhcouldn't blame the old jigger, though. That88 brand on yore hoss was misleadin'some."

"That hoss o' mine's been stole. Yep,lifted right in the street in Paradise Bend.Rufe Cutting done it."

"I don't remember him. Is he anybodyspecial besides a hoss thief?"

"Friend o' Blakely's. Block says Rufe'sdrifted south—him an' the hoss. But Block

may be lyin'. Yuh can't tell."

"Did the sheriff give yuh that informationfree of charge?"

"Not so yuh could notice it. I got it out ofhim with a quirt, an' I had to drill both hisears, he was that stubborn."

"Drilled both his ears. Well! Well!Yuh'd ought to have killed him."

"I know it. He went an' got ShortySimms to kill the Sheriff o' Sunset."

"What?"

"Shore. It was thisaway."

Loudon related the circumstances of the

sheriff's murder.

"An'," he said in conclusion, "Sunsetain't a-goin' to take it kindly."

"Which I should say not! His friends'llpaint for war, that's a cinch. This country'sgettin' worse an' worse!"

"No, only the people are, an' maybe wecan get some of 'em to change. But I beenhere too long already. We're ridin' toMarysville, Jack, an' we aim to stay therea couple o' days. Tell Johnny an' Chuck tomeet us there, an' tell 'em not to bawl outmy name when they see me. It'd be justlike the two of 'em to yell her out so yuhcould hear it over in the next county. An'I've got plenty of reasons for wishin' to be

private."

"Don't worry none. They'll keep theirmouths shut. I'll fix that up. I wish yuhluck, Tom. I shore hope yuh get the 88 an'get 'em good. I ain't lost no more cowslately, but I don't like 'em any better forthat."

"I wish I could make Old Salt see thelight," Loudon grumbled.

"I kind o' think he's comin' round. I seenhim a week ago, an' he didn't talk realfriendly 'bout the 88. But then, he mighthave had a bellyache at the time. OldSalt's kind o' odd. Yuh can't always tellwhat he's thinkin' inside."

CHAPTER XIX

MARYSVILLE

Judge Allison, portly and forty, sat onthe porch of the Sunrise Hotel inMarysville. The judicial hands wereclasped over the judicial stomach, and thejudicial mind was at peace with allmankind. However, a six-shooter in ashoulder-holster nudged the judicial ribsbeneath each arm-pit. For mankind ispeevish and prone to hold grudges, and inorder to secure an uninterrupted term on

the bench a judge must be prepared foreventualities.

Tied to the hitching-rail in front of thehotel was a good-looking sorrel horse. Itbore the Barred Twin Diamond brand.Judge Allison had bought the horse thatvery morning. He had bought him from thekeeper of the dance hall, Mr. WilliamArcher, who, it seemed, had five othersfor sale.

Judge Allison was delighted with hisbargain. He knew a horse when he sawone, and he felt that he had gotten the bestof Archer in the deal. True, as Archer hadsaid, the sorrel was a little footsore, buttwo or three weeks of light work wouldcure that.

"Yes," mused the Judge, "a good animal.Sixteen hands high if he's an inch, and I'llbet he can run rings round any cow-ponyin the community. By Jove, here come twounusually fine animals!"

Which last remark was called forth bythe approach of two big rangy horses, abay and a gray. The riders, very dusty,both of them, were hard-lookingcharacters. A week's growth of stubbledoes not add to the appearance of any one.They were tall, lean men, these two, andone of them was exceedingly swarthy.

They dismounted at the hitching-rail,tossed the reins over their horses' heads,and went into the bar. Both, as theypassed, glanced casually at the Judge's

sorrel.

"Flying Diamond A," said the judge tohimself, eying the strangers' mounts. "Idon't believe I ever heard of that outfit. Itmust be a southwestern ranch."

Judge Allison had never heard of hissorrel's brand, the Barred Twin Diamond,either. But then the Judge knew Mr.William Archer, or thought he did, and toquestion the authenticity of the brand hadnot entered his head.

The two tall, lean riders would havebeen greatly pleased had they known ofthe ease with which the Judge read thebrands on their horses' hips. It was atribute to their skill in hair-branding.

Pocket-knives in their hands, they hadspent hours in a broiling hot draw alteringthe Flying M to the Flying Diamond A.

On paper it is ridiculously simple.Merely prolong upward, till they meet, theouter arms of the Flying M, and there youhave it, a perfectly good Flying DiamondA. But it is quite another story when one'spaper is the hide of a nervous horse whichfrantically objects to having its hairpinched out.

The strangers happened to be sitting onthe porch when the Judge rode homewardon his sore-footed purchase. They notedhow tenderly the Barred Twin Diamondsorrel walked, and promptly retired to thebar and made a fast friend of the

bartender.

That afternoon the younger of the twohard-looking characters, the gray-eyedman, became exceedingly intoxicated andquarrelled with his swarthy friend whoremained quite sober. The friendendeavoured to get him to bed—they hadtaken a room at the hotel—but the drunkenone ran away. For a gentleman overcomeby drink he ran remarkably well.

He was discovered an hour later in Mr.Archer's corral, making hystericalendeavours to climb the fence, andbawling that he was being detainedagainst his will and would presently makea sieve of the individual who had hiddenthe gate. To which end he flourished a six-

shooter.

Mr. Archer opened the gate and invitedthe tippler to come out. But this he refusedto do, and offered to fight Mr. Archerrough-and-tumble or with knives on ablanket.

Mr. Archer, with an eye to futurepatronage, did not send for the marshal.He sent for the man's friend. When theswarthy one appeared, the otherimmediately sheathed his six-shooter,burst into maudlin tears, and fell on hisneck. Weeping bitterly, he was led awayto the hotel and to bed.

"I've seen drunks," observed a plumpdance-hall girl, "but I never seen one as

full as he is that could walk so good. Hislicker only seems to hit him from the beltup."

"Oh, there's drunks an' drunks," sagelyreplied Mr. Archer. "When yo're as old asI am, Clarice, yuh won't wonder at nothin'a drunk does."

When the two strangers were in theirroom with the door shut the younger onelay down on his cot and stuffed the end ofa blanket into his mouth. His whole bigframe shook with uproarious mirth. Hekicked the cot with his boot-toes andbounced up and down. His friend laughedsilently.

"Telescope," whispered the man on the

bed, when he could open his mouthwithout yelling, "Telescope, I got it all.They's five hosses in that corral o'Archer's, all of 'em sore-footed an' allbranded Barred Twin Diamond. It's donemighty slick, too. Yuh can't hardly tell itain't the real thing. An' one of 'em, a blackwith two white stockings, I can swear tolike I can to that sorrel the bartender saidthe Judge bought. I've rode 'em both."

"Sleeck work," breathed Laguerre. "I kinsw'ar to dat sorrel, too. I know heem, me.He ees six year old, un dat red one I seeeen de corral, I know heem. I bust heem at'ree-year old. He ees five now. But deodders I not so shore."

"It don't matter. They're all Scotty's

horses. That's a cinch."

"I won'er eef de rest back een de heel.W'at you t'ink?"

"No, they ain't. Why, look here,Telescope, them six sorefoots tell thestory. If the rustlers was holdin' the bandin the hills they'd 'a' kept the six. But theydidn't. They turned 'em over to Archer.That shows they was drivin' 'em, an'drivin' 'em some'ers near here. Well, therailroad ain't more'n fifty mile south.Farewell's about sixty mile north. If themrustlers got the band this far their bestmove would be to keep right on to therailroad an' ship the hosses east or west.An' I'll gamble that's what they've done."

Loudon gazed triumphantly at Laguerre.The latter nodded.

"You are right, you bet," he said, hiseyes beginning to glitter. "I hope dem twoodder boys geet a move on."

"They ought to pull in to-morrow. To-night, when I'm all sober again, we'll godown to the dance hall an' find out ifArcher's made any little out-o'-town tripslately. Telescope, I'm shore enjoyin' this.To-morrow I'm goin' to make theacquaintance o' the Judge an' see what hethinks o' this rustler Loudon who goesspreadin' the Crossed Dumbbell brand upan' down the land. Yes, sir, I got to shakehands with Judge Allison."

Again mirth overcame him, and he hadrecourse to the blanket.

"I wouldn' go see dat Judge," advisedLaguerre, with a dubious shake of thehead. "She may not be de damfool. Shemight have you' face describe', huh. Shemight see onder de w'iskair. You leaveheem 'lone, my frien'."

But Loudon remained firm in hisresolve.

Mr. Archer was a good business man.His two fiddlers were excellent, and hisgirls were prettier than the average cow-town dance-hall women. Consequently,Mr. Archer's place was popular. WhenLoudon and Laguerre entered, four full

sets were thumping through a polka on thedancing floor, and in the back room twogamblers sat behind their boxes, playerstwo deep bordering the tables.

After a drink at the bar the two watchedthe faro games awhile. Then Laguerrecaptured a good-looking brunette andwhirled with her into a wild waltz.Loudon singled out a plump little blondein a short red skirt and a shockinglyinadequate waist and invited her to drinkwith him.

"I seen yuh this mornin'," she confided,planting both elbows on the table. "Yuhshore was packin' a awful load. Iwondered how yuh walked at all."

"Oh, I can always walk," said Loudon,modestly. "Liquor never does affect mylegs none—only my head an' my arms."

"Different here, dearie. When I'm full ithits me all over. I just go blah. Yuh got tocarry me. I can't walk nohow. But I don'ttank up much. Bill Archer don't like it.Say, honey, what djuh say to a dance?Don't yuh feel like a waltz or somethin'?"

"I'd rather sit here an' talk to yuh.Besides, my ankle's strained some.Dancin' won't do it no good."

"That's right. Well, buy me another drinkthen. I want to get forty checks to-night if Ican."

"Help yoreself. The bridle's off to you,Mary Jane."

"Call me Clarice. That's my name. Ain'tit got a real refined sound? I got it out of abook. The herowine was called that. Shedrowned herself. Gee, I cried over thatbook! Read it six times, too. Here's luck,stranger."

"An' lots of it, Ethel. Have another."

"Just for that yuh don't have to call meClarice. Yuh can call me anythin' yuh like'cept Maggie. A floozie named that stoleninety-five dollars an' four bits an' a goldwatch offen me once. I ain't liked the namesince. Well, drown sorrow."

"An' drown her deep. Say, I kind o' likethis town. It suits me down to the ground.How's the cattle 'round here?"

"Nothin' to brag of. They's only a fewlittle ranches. They's gold in the DryMountains over east a ways. Placers, theclaims are. Bill Archer's got a claimsome'ers west in the foot-hills o' the Fryin'Pans. He works it quite a lot, but he ain'tnever had no luck with it yet. Leastwise,he says he ain't."

"Has he been out to it lately?" askedLoudon, carelessly.

The girl did not immediately reply. Shestared fixedly into his eyes.

"Stranger," she said, her voice low andhard, "stranger, what do yuh want to knowfor?"

"Oh, I was just a-wonderin'. Not that Ireally want to know. I was just talkin'."

"Yuh seem to enjoy talkin' quite a lot."

"I do. Habit I got."

"Well, what do yuh want to know aboutBill Archer for?"

"I don't. Say, can't I make a naturalremark without yore jumpin' sideways?"

"Remarks is all right. It's yore questionsain't. Stranger, for a feller who's justmakin' talk yore eyes are a heap too

interested. I been in this business too longa time not to be able to read a gent's eyes.Yo're a-huntin' for somethin', you are."

"I'm a-huntin' a job—that's all. What doyuh take me for, anyway?"

"I dunno how to take yuh. I——"

"Oh, have another drink an' forget it."

"Shore I'll have another drink, but Idunno as I—— Oh, well, yo're all right, o'course. I'm gettin' foolish, I guess."

Her words did not carry conviction, andcertainly she did not cease to watchLoudon with furtive keenness. He stroveby means of many drinks and a steadyflow of conversation to dispel her

suspicions. The girl played up toperfection, yet, when he bade her good-night, it was with the assured belief thatshe and Archer would have a little talkwithin five minutes.

The bar was nearly empty when Loudonand Laguerre entered the hotel. Twodrunken punchers were sleeping on thefloor, a mongrel under a table wasvigorously hunting for fleas, and thebartender was languidly arranging bottleson the shelves. Loudon ordered drinks andtreated the bartender.

"Any chance o' pickin' up a stake in theDry Mountains?" hazarded Loudon.

"How?" queried the bartender.

"Placer minin'."

"Well, gents, if yuh don't care how hardyuh work for five dollars a day, the DryMountains is the place. I never had no usefor a long-tailed shovel myself."

"I heard how them stream-beds wasrich."

"Don't yuh believe it, gents. If they was,there wouldn't be no Marysville 'roundhere. It'd be all over in the Dry Mountains.No, gents, it's like I says. Yuh can get thecolour all right enough, but yuh won'tmake more'n five a day on an average.Who wants to rock a cradle for that?"

"Now ain't that a fright?" complained

Loudon. "Chucked up our jobs with theFlyin' Diamond A 'cause we heard howthere was gold in the Dry Mountains, an'come all the way up here for nothin'. Itshore does beat the devil!"

"It does, stranger, it does. Have one onthe house, gents."

"Say," said Loudon, when the liquor waspoured, "say, how about east in thefoothills o' the Fryin' Pans? Any goldthere?"

"Stranger, them Fryin' Pans has beenprospected from hell to breakfast an' theyain't showed the colour yet. Take my wordfor it, gents, an' leave the Fryin' Pansalone. Bill Archer's got a claim some'ers

over that way an' he goes traipsin' out to itevery so often. Stays quite a while, Billdoes, sometimes. Don't know why. Hedon't never get nothin'."

"How do yuh know?"

"Stranger, I know them hills. I'veprospected that country myself. There's nogold in it."

"Maybe Bill Archer don't agree withyuh."

"Likely he don't. He's a hopeful cuss asever was. Why, gents, only about ten daysago he got back from a two weeks' trip tohis claim. A month ago he was gonemaybe a week. An' it goes on like that.

Why, I'll bet Bill Archer spends mightynigh four months in every year out on hisclaim. There's perseverance for yuh, ifnothin' else."

The two friends agreed that it wasindeed perseverance and retired to theirroom.

"We've got Archer pretty nigh hog-tied,"murmured Loudon as he pulled off histrousers.

"You bet," whispered Laguerre. "Archershe ees w'at you call de fence, huh? Deodder feller dey run off de pony un decow, un Archer she sell dem. Eet eesplain, yes."

"Plain! I guess so. It'll be a cinch."

It might appear cinch-like, but therewere more dips and twists in the trailahead than Loudon and Laguerre dreamedof.

In the morning Loudon strolled down thestreet and entered the dance hall. Mr.Archer was behind the bar, and he greetedLoudon with grave politeness.

There was nothing in Archer's manner toindicate that Clarice had talked. In perfectamity the two men drank together, andLoudon took his departure. His visit to thedance hall had one result. The depth ofMr. Archer's character had beenindicated, if not revealed. Loudon had

hoped that he was a hasty person, onegiven to exploding at half-cock. Such anindividual is less difficult to contend withthan one that bides his time.

Loudon, not wholly easy in his mind,went in search of Judge Allison. He foundhim in the Sweet Dreams Saloon telling afunny story to the bartender. The Judgewas an approachable person. Loudon hadno difficulty in scraping an acquaintancewith him. Half-an-hour's conversationdisclosed the fact that the Judge's hobbywas the horse. Loudon talked horse and itsdiseases till he felt that his brain was indanger of developing a spavin.

Judge Allison warmed to the young man.Here was a fellow that knew horses. By

Jove, yes! Reluctantly the Judge admittedto himself that Loudon's knowledge ofbreeding secrets far exceeded his own. Ina land where horses are usually bredhaphazard such an individual is rare.

The Judge took Loudon home with himin order to pursue his favourite subject toits lair. Which lair was the Judge's office,where, cheek by jowl with "Coke uponLittleton" and Blackstone's ponderousvolumes, were books on the horse—war,work, and race.

"It's astonishing, sir," pronounced theJudge, when his negro had brought in asweating jug of what the Judge calledcocktails, "truly astonishing what vilepoison is served across our bars. And I

say 'vile' with feeling. Why, until Iimported my own brands from the East mystomach was perpetually out of order. Ivery nearly died. Have another? No?Later, then. Well, sir, my name is Allison,Henry B. Allison, Judge of this district.What may I call you, sir?"

"Franklin, Judge, Ben Franklin," repliedLoudon, giving the name he had given thelandlord of the hotel.

"Any relation of Poor Richard?"twinkled the Judge.

"Who was he?" queried Loudon,blankly.

"A great man, a very great man. He's

dead at present."

"He would be. Fellah never isappreciated till he shuffles off."

"We live in an unappreciative world,Mr. Franklin. I know. I ought to. A judgeis never appreciated, that is, notpleasantly. Why, last year I sentencedTom Durry for beating his wife, and Mrs.Tom endeavoured to shoot me the dayafter Tom was sent away. The mentalprocesses of a woman areincomprehensible. Have anothercocktail?"

"No more, thanks, Judge. I've had a-plenty. Them cocktail jiggers ain't strongor nothin'. Oh, no! Two or three more of

'em an' I'd go right out an' push the houseover. I'm feelin' fine now. Don't want tofeel a bit better. Ever go huntin', Judge?"

"No, I don't. I used to. Why?"

"I was just a-wonderin'. Yuh see, me an'my friend are thinkin' o' prospectin' theFryin' Pans, an' we was a-wonderin' howthe game was. Don't want to pack muchgrub if we can help it."

"The Frying Pans! Why, Bill Archer hasa claim there. Never gets anything out ofit, though. Works it hard enough, too, or heused to at any rate. Odd. About threeweeks ago he told me he was riding out togive it another whirl. Last week, Tuesday,to be exact, I was riding about twenty

miles south of here and I met Bill Archerriding north. He seemed quite surprised tomeet me. I guess he doesn't work thatclaim as much as he says."

"That's the way we come north—throughthat country east of the Blossom trail."

"Oh, I was west of the Blossom trail—fully ten miles west. What? Goingalready? Why, I haven't had time to askyou about that extraordinary case ofringbone you ran across in Texas. Wait.I'll get a book. I want to show yousomething."

It was fully an hour before Loudon couldtear himself away from Judge Allison. Ashe crossed the street, a buckboard drawn

by two sweating, dust-caked poniesrattled past him and stopped in front of theJudge's office. The driver was a womanswathed in a shapeless duster, her facehidden by a heavy veil, and a wide-brimmed Stetson tied sunbonnet-fashionover her ears. At first glance she was notattractive, and Loudon, absorbed in hisown affairs, did not look twice.

"Find out anythin'?" inquired Laguerre,when Loudon met him at the hotel corral.

"I found out that when Archer came backfrom that claim in the Fryin' Pans he comefrom the direction o' the railroad. TheJudge met him twenty mile south an' tenmile west o' the trail to Blossom. Blossomis almost due south o' here. The next

station west is Damson. We'll go toDamson first. C'mon an' eat."

The long table in the dining room wasalmost deserted. At one end sat Archerand a lanky person in chaps. Loudoncaught the lanky gentleman castingsidelong glances in his direction. Archerdid not look up from his plate. It was thefirst meal at which they had met either thedance-hall keeper or his tall friend.

"I wonder," mused Loudon. "I wonder."

After dinner Loudon inquired of thebartender whether it was Archer's customto eat at the hotel.

"First time he ever ate here to my

knowledge," said the bartender. "He's gota home an' a Injun woman to cook."

"It's the little tumble-weeds show howthe wind blows," thought Loudon tohimself, and sat down in a corner of thebarroom and pondered deeply.

A few minutes later he removed hiscartridge-belt, hung it on the back of hischair, and composed himself ostensibly todoze. His three-quarter shut eyes,however, missed nothing that went on inthe barroom.

Archer and his lanky friend entered anddraped themselves over the bar. Loudon,after a brief space of time, arose,stretched, and yawningly stumbled

upstairs. He lay down on his cot andsmoked one cigarette after another, hiseyes on the ceiling.

Laguerre wandered in, and Loudonuttered cogent sentences in a whisper.Laguerre grinned delightedly. Hisperverted sense of humour was aroused.Loudon did not smile. What he believed tobe impending gave him no pleasure.

"Guess I'll go down," announcedLoudon, when an hour had elapsed. "Nosense in delayin' too long."

"No," said Laguerre, "no sense een dat."

He followed his friend downstairs.

"Seems to me I took it off in here,"

Loudon flung back over his shoulder, asthough in response to a question. "Shore,there it is."

He walked across the barroom to wherehis cartridge-belt and six-shooter hung onthe back of a chair. He buckled on thebelt, Archer and his lanky friend watchinghim the while.

"How about a little game, gents?"suggested Archer.

In a flash Loudon saw again the barroomof the Happy Heart and the Sheriff ofSunset County surrounded by Block'sfriends. The wolf-faced man hademployed almost those very words.Loudon smiled cheerfully.

"Why, shore," he said, "I'm with yuh. Ileft my coin upstairs. I'll be right down."

He hurried up to his room, closed thedoor, and set his back against it. Drawinghis six-shooter he flipped out the cylinder.No circle of brass heads and copperprimers met his eye. His weapon had beenunloaded.

"Fell plumb into it," he muttered withoutexultation. "The —— murderers!"

He tried the action. Nothing wrong there.Only the cartridges had been juggled. Hereloaded hastily from a fresh box ofcartridges. He would not trust those in hisbelt. Heaven only knew how far ahead thegentleman who tampered with his gun had

looked.

When Loudon returned to the barroom,Laguerre and the other two men weresitting at a battered little table. The vacantchair was opposite Archer's lanky friend,and the man sitting in that chair wouldhave his back to the door.

"I don't like to sit with my back to thedoor," stated Loudon.

"Some don't," said the lanky man,shuffling the cards.

"Meanin'?" Loudon cocked aninquisitive eyebrow.

"Oh, nothin'."

"Shore?"

"Positive, stranger, positive."

"That's good. Change seats, will yuh?"

The lanky citizen hesitated. Loudonremained standing, his gray eyes cold andhard. Then slowly the other man arose,circled the table, and sat down. Loudonslid into the vacated chair.

The lanky man dealt. Loudon watchedthe deft fingers—fingers too deft for theexcessively crude exhibition of cheatingthat occurred almost instantly. To Archerthe dealer dealt from the bottom of thepack, and did it clumsily. Hardly theveriest tyro would have so openly bungled

the performance. For all that, however, itwas done so that Loudon, and notLaguerre, saw the action.

"Where I come from," observed Loudon,softly, "we don't deal from the bottom ofthe pack."

"Do you say I'm a-dealin' from thebottom of the pack?" loudly demanded thelanky man.

"Just that," replied Loudon, his thumbshooked in the armholes of his vest.

"Yo're a liar!" roared the lanky one, andreached for his gun.

Archer fell over backwards. Laguerrethrust his chair to one side and leaped the

other way.

No one saw Loudon's arm move. Yet,when the lanky man's fingers closed on thebutt of his gun, Loudon's six-shooter wasin his hand.

The lanky man's six-shooter was halfdrawn when Loudon's gun spat flame andsmoke. The lanky's one's fingers slippedtheir grip, and his arm jerked backward.Lips writhing with pain, for his rightelbow was smashed to bits, the lanky manthrust his left hand under his vest.

"Don't," cautioned Loudon.

The lanky man's hand came slowly away—empty. White as chalk, his left hand

clenched round the biceps of his woundedarm, the lanky man swayed to his feet andstaggered into the street.

Archer arose awkwardly. Hisexpression was so utterly nonplussed thatit would have been laughable had not thesituation been so tragic. A thread of graysmoke spiraled upward from the muzzle ofLoudon's slanting six-shooter. Laguerre,balanced on his toes, watched thedoorway.

Loudon stared at Archer. The lattermoved from behind the table and halted.He removed his hat and scratched hishead, his eyes on the trail of red blotsleading to the door.

"——!" exclaimed Archer, suddenly,raising his head. "This here kind o' puts acrimp in our game, don't it?"

"That depends on how bad yuh want toplay," retorted Loudon. "I'm ready—I'malways ready to learn new tricks."

"I don't just feel like poker now," hedgedArcher, ignoring the insult. "I reckon I'llsee yuh later maybe."

"Don't strain yoreself reckonin',"advised Loudon.

"I won't. So long, gents."

With an airy wave of his head BillArcher left the barroom.

Inch by inch the head of the bartenderuprose from behind the breastwork of thebar. The barrel of a sawed-off shotgunrose with the head. When Loudonholstered his six-shooter the bartenderreplaced the sawed-off shotgun on thehooks behind the bar.

"Well, sir, gents," remarked thebartender with an audible sigh of relief,"which I'm never so glad in my life whenSkinny Maxson don't pull that derringer.She's a .41 that derringer is, the bar's rightin the line o' fire—it ain't none too thick—an' Skinny always shoots wide with aderringer. Gents, the drinks are on thehouse. What'll yuh have?"

"Yo're a Christian," grinned Loudon. "Is

Skinny Maxson anythin' special 'roundhere?"

"He's a friend o' Bill Archer's," repliedthe bartender, "an' he's got—I mean he hada reputation. I knowed he was lightning onthe draw till I seen you—I mean till Ididn't see yuh pull yore gun. Mr. Franklin,that was shore the best exhibition o' quickdrawin' I ever seen, an' I used to work inDodge City. Good thing yuh was someswift. Skinny don't shoot a six-gun like hedoes a derringer. No, not for a minute hedon't! But look out for Skinny's brotherLuke. He's got a worse temper'n Skinny,an' he's a better shot. This nickin' o'Skinny is a heap likely to make him paintfor war. He's out o' town just now."

A clatter of running feet was heard in thestreet. Through the doorway bounded astocky citizen, blood in his eye, and ashotgun in his hand.

"Where's the —— shot Skinny!" hehowled.

"Luke!" cried the bartender, and divedbeneath the bar.

"Stranger, I wouldn't do nothin' rash,"observed Loudon, squinting along thebarrel of his six-shooter. "Drop thatshotgun, an' drop her quick."

Loudon's tone was soft, but its menacewas not lost on the wild-eyed man. Hisshotgun thudded on the floor.

"By Gar!" exclaimed Laguerre. "Eet ees——"

"Shut up!" roared Loudon. "I'm seein'just what yo're seein', but there's no call toblat it out!"

For the wild-eyed man was the sameindividual who had brought the tale of theHatchet Creek Indian uprising toFarewell. But there was no recognition inthe man's eyes, which was not remarkable.Loudon and Laguerre, on that occasion,had been but units in a crowd, and evenwhen they exchanged shots with the fellowthe range was too long for features to benoted. Besides, the thick growth of stubbleon their faces effectually concealed theiridentity from any one who did not know

them well.

"I'd kind o' elevate my hands, BrotherLuke," suggested Loudon. "That's right.Yuh look more ornamental thataway. An'don't shake so much. You ain't half as madas yo're tryin' to make out. If you was realhot you'd 'a' took a chance an' unhookedthat shotgun when yuh come in. BrotherLuke, yo're a false alarm—like Skinny."

"Lemme pick up my shotgun, an' I'llshow yuh!" clamoured Luke Maxson,whom the purring voice was driving to afrenzy.

"Yuh lost yore best chance, an' chancesdon't travel in pairs—like brothers."

"Do somethin'! Do somethin'!" chatteredLuke.

"No hurry. Don't get het, Brother Luke. IfI was to do somethin' yore valuable an'good-lookin' carcass would be damaged.An' I just ain't got the heart to shoot morethan one man a day."

Laguerre laughed outright. From behindthe bar came the sound of a snicker hastilystifled.

"You let me go," yapped Luke Maxson,"an' I'll down yuh first chance I git!"

"Good argument against lettin' yuh go."

At the window flanking the doorappeared the plump face and shoulders of

Judge Allison.

"Why don't yuh do somethin', —— yuh?"yelled Luke Maxson. "I'm gettin' tiredholdin' my arms up!"

"Well," said Loudon, "as I told yuhbefore, though yuh can't seem to get itthrough yore thick head, it's a mightyboggy ford. I feel just like the fellahswingin' on the wildcat's tail. I want to letgo, but I can't. If I was shore none o' yoremeasly friends would shoot me in theback, I'd let yuh go get yore Winchesteran' shoot it out with me in the street at ahundred yards. But the chance o' yorefriends bustin' in shore dazzles me."

"None of 'em won't move a finger!" Luke

hastened to assure Loudon.

The latter looked doubtful. The Judgecoughed gently and rubbed his clean-shaven chin.

"Mr. Franklin," said Judge Allison,"should you care to try conclusions withMr. Maxson in the street, pray accept myassurances that no one will interfere. Ispeak unofficially, of course. Furthermore,in a wholly unofficial capacity I shalloversee proceedings from the sidewalk. Ifany one should be so ill-advised as to—— But no one will, no one will."

"You hear what the Judge says?" Loudoncocked an eyebrow at Luke Maxson.

"Shore, shore," said that worthy,feverishly. "Lemme pick up my shotgun,an' in five minutes I'll be back in themiddle o' Main Street a-waitin' for yuh."

"Five minutes is too long," observedLoudon. "Make it three. An' yuh needn'ttouch that shotgun. Yuh can get it later—ifyo're able."

"Yo're shore in a hurry!" sneered Luke.

"I always am with a coward an' a liar an'a low-down, baby-robbin' road-agent."

At these words rage almostoverwhelmed Luke Maxson. Only the longbarrel of that steady six-shooter aimed athis abdomen prevented him from hurling

himself barehanded upon his tormentor.

"One moment, gentlemen!" exclaimed theJudge. "In the interest of fair play permitme to settle one or two necessarypreliminaries. The street runsapproximately north and south so the sunwill not favour either of you. Mr. Maxsonwill take his stand in the middle of thestreet opposite the dance hall. Mr.Franklin will also post himself in themiddle of the street but opposite the hotel.The hotel and dance hall are about ahundred yards apart. I shall be on thesidewalk midway between the two places.At a shot from my revolver you gentlemenwill commence firing. And may God havemercy on your souls. Gentlemen, the threeminutes start immediately."

"Git," ordered Loudon.

Luke Maxson fled. The Judge vanishedfrom the window. Loudon hurried upstairsfor his rifle. In the street could be heardthe voice of Judge Allison boominginstructions to the passersby to removethemselves and their ponies from the rangeof fire.

"Geet heem, by Gar!" enjoined Laguerre,clicking a cartridge into the chamber ofhis own rifle. "Geet heem! You got to geetheem! I'm behin' you, me! I trus' dat judgefeller, but I trus' myself more. Eef anybodyjump sideway at you, I geet heem."

"I'll get him," muttered Loudon. "Don'tworry none, Telescope. He'll get it like

his brother."

"No, no, Tom, no fancy shootin' at deelbow," exclaimed Laguerre in alarm."Geet hees hair."

"You just wait. C'mon."

CHAPTER XX

THE RAILROAD CORRAL

Loudon stepped out into the street.Laguerre stationed himself on thesidewalk twenty yards in Loudon's rear.

Every window and doorway giving aview of the scene of hostilities wascrowded with spectators. On thesidewalk, fifty yards from the hotel, stoodJudge Allison, watch in hand.

Loudon stood, one leg thrust slightlyforward, his eyes on the dance-hall door,and his cocked rifle in the hollow of hisleft arm.

Not for an instant did he fear theoutcome. His self-confidence wassupreme. Oddly enough, his mind refusedto dwell on the impending duel. He couldthink of nothing save the most trivialsubjects till Luke Maxson stepped out ofthe dance-hall doorway.

Then a prickling twitched the skinbetween Loudon's shoulders, and heexperienced a curious species ofexhilaration. It reminded him of a long-ago evening in Fort Worth when he haddrunk a bottle of champagne. Theexhilaration vanished in a breath.Remained a calculating coldness and thepleasing knowledge that Luke Maxsonwas still excited.

Bang! The Judge's six-shooter spoke.Instantly the upper half of Maxson's figurewas hidden by a cloud of smoke.

Loudon worked his Winchester sorapidly that the reports sounded like theroll of an alarm-clock. At his sixth shot,simultaneously with a blow on his left foot

that jarred his leg to the knee, he saw LukeMaxson drop his rifle and fall forward onhis hands and knees.

Then Maxson jerked his body sidewiseand sat up, his back toward Loudon, hishands clutching his legs.

Loudon lowered the hammer of hisWinchester and gazed down at his numbedfoot. Most of the high heel of his boot hadbeen torn away. Which was the sole resultof his opponent's marksmanship. Walkingwith a decided list to port he unhurriedlycrossed to the hotel.

"Gimme a drink!" he called to thebartender. "An' have one yoreself."

"Forgeet me, huh?" chuckled Laguerre,hard on his friend's heels. "Mak' eet t'ree,meestair."

"Say, Tom," Laguerre said, when theywere alone. "W'y deed you tell me to shutup, huh?"

"Don't yuh see, Telescope?" repliedLoudon. "Here's Bill Archer a heapsuspicious of us already. He's guessedwe're from the Bend, but if we don'trecognize Luke Maxson he won't knowwhat to think. Anyway, I'm gamblin' hewon't canter right off an' blat out to the 88that two fellahs are on their trail. Insteado' doin' that it's likely he'll trail us whenwe pull our freight, an' try to make shorejust what our game is. It's our job to keep

him puzzled till everythin's cinched. Thenhe can do what he likes. It won't make abit of difference."

"You are right," nodded Laguerre. "Yout'ink sleecker dan me dees tam. But w'yyou not keel de man, huh?"

"'Cause, dead an' buried, he can't beidentified. Gripped up in bed he'll make afine Exhibit A for our outfit."

"You was tak' a beeg chance."

"Oh, not so big. He was mad when hecame into the saloon, an' I made him aheap madder before I got through talkin' tohim. Yuh can't shoot good when yo'remad."

And Loudon grinned at Laguerre.

"You old sun-of-a-gun!" said his friend,admiringly.

That hearty soul, Judge Allison, broughtthe news half an hour after the shootingthat Luke Maxson was far from beingbadly wounded. There were, it seemed,three bullets in Luke's right leg and two inhis left. And the left leg was broken.

At this last Loudon brightened visibly.He had feared that his adversary hadmerely sustained flesh wounds. A brokenleg, however, would confine the amiableLuke to his bed for a period of weeks,which, for the proper furtherance ofLoudon's plans, was greatly to be desired.

Loudon began to fear for the safety ofJudge Allison. Marysville was not apt totake kindly the Judge's rather openespousal of the stranger's cause. AndLoudon liked Judge Allison. He felt thatthe Judge was honest; that he had beenduped by Block and Archer and the othersof their stripe; that, his eyes once openedto the true state of affairs, the Judge wouldnot hesitate to show the malefactors theerror of their ways.

In time Loudon intended to take theJudge into his confidence, but that timewas not yet. In the meantime, no evil mustcome to Judge Allison. Loudon took theJudge aside.

"Yore Honour," said he, "ain't yuh just a

little too friendly to me an' my friend? Wedon't have to live here, but you do."

The Judge did not immediately makereply. He put his head on one side andlooked at Loudon under his eyebrows.

"In so far as I may," said the Judge atlast, "I do what pleases me. Even so, noman in the possession of his sensesperforms any act without good reason.Regarding my reason for what little I did,I can at present say, 'Cherchez la femme.'Ah, here comes the stage! I must go to thepostoffice. Come to my office in aboutfifteen minutes, Mr. Franklin, andremember, 'Cherchez la femme.'"

Loudon stared in perplexity after the

retreating figure.

"'Shershay la fam,'" he repeated. "NowI'd like to know what that means.Shershay la fam. Don't sound like Injuntalk. An' he wants to see me in fifteenminutes, does he? Maybe, now, he'll bearwatchin' after all."

At the time appointed Loudon enteredthe Judge's office. The Judge, smoking along cigar, his feet on the table, wavedLoudon to a chair. Loudon unobtrusivelyhitched his six-shooter into easy drawingposition as he sat down. He watched theJudge like a cat. The Judge smiled.

"Friend," he said, "you may relax. It'squite too hot to look for trouble where

none is. My intentions are of thefriendliest. Quite recently there have cometo my ears several important bits ofinformation. Among other interesting facts,I am told that Sheriff Block has sworn intwelve deputies for the purpose ofarresting one Thomas Loudon, latelyemployed by the Bar S ranch, but workingat present for the Flying M in SunsetCounty.

"The man Loudon is alleged to havecommitted divers crimes, ranging in theirheinousness from rustling and assault withmurderous intent, to simple assault andbattery. Thomas Loudon is supposed tohave returned to the Flying M, but theworthy sheriff has in some manner gainedthe impression that the fugitive is still

within the confines of Fort Creek County.Hence the dozen deputies."

The Judge paused. Loudon leaned backin his chair, crossed one leg over theother, and rolled a cigarette. He realizednow that Judge Allison was unreservedlyhis friend.

"It is only a question of time," continuedthe Judge, "when a batch of these deputieswill ride into Marysville. If ThomasLoudon were in Marysville at present, andif I were in his boots, I should saddle myhorse and seek refuge in parts unknown—for a time at least. I understand thatThomas Loudon is taking steps in a certainmatter that will, if he is successful,criminally involve large and powerful

interests. If Thomas Loudon is a man ofparts and wisdom he will take his stepswith all speed.

"Evidence is evidence, and the morethere is of it, and the stronger it is, and thesooner it is brought forward, the better.For the better information of ThomasLoudon, I will say that, under the laws ofthis territory, a warrant issued by anyjudge may be withdrawn by that judge athis discretion. For instance, shouldThomas Loudon present evidence tendingto discredit the individuals swearing outthe warrant against him, said warrantwould stand an excellent chance of beingimmediately annulled. Do I make myselfclear?"

"Couldn't be clearer," Loudon said,staring up at the ceiling. "I'll bet TomLoudon would be a heap grateful to yuh ifhe could 'a' heard what yuh had to say."

"Doubtless—doubtless. I trust some dayto make the gentleman's acquaintance. As Iwas saying, these deputies may arrive atany time. I do not believe they will comebefore to-morrow at the earliest. Yet onecan never tell. Parts unknown are the besthealth resorts on earth at times like these."

"Yo're shore whistlin', Judge. I guesswe'll pull our freight this afternoon or to-night."

When Loudon informed Laguerre in theprivacy of their room of what the Judge

had said, the swarthy man slapped his legand laughed aloud.

"By Gar!" he exclaimed. "By Gar! Datees damn fonny!" Then, in a lower tone, headded, "She shore one good feller. Watwas dose word she say—dose fonny wordyou not know w'at dey mean?"

"Shershay la fam."

"Cherchez la femme, huh? Dat eesFrançais. Un it mean, 'Fin' de woman.'"

"'Find the woman'! I'd like to know whatfindin' the woman's got to do with it."

"I dunno. But dat's w'at de word mean,all right. W'at I wan' for know ees how deJudge she know so much 'bout you. She

issue de warran', un now she not followeet up. I do not understan', me."

"Me neither. Lend me yore knife,Telescope, will yuh? Yores is sharper'nmine, an' I got to cut some leather offen mychaps an' make me a new heel. I'll prob'lyhave time to make me a whole new pair o'boots an' a saddle before Johnny an'Chuck drift in. Which they're the slowestpair of bandits livin'. We'll give 'em tilldaylight to-morrow."

Marysville, whatever opinions it mayhave held concerning the shooting affray,did not openly disapprove. No one cameforward to take up the quarrel of theMaxson brothers.

As to Archer, he sat alone in front of hisdance hall. Loudon perceived, in thecourse of a casual stroll, that the manwore his spurs, and that two of the horsesin the corral were saddled and bridled.He also noted that the five Barred TwinDiamond horses were still in the corral.He dropped in at the Judge's office.

"Judge," said Loudon, "it just struck methat somebody might want to buy thatsorrel hoss o' yores. Yuh see, I've takenquite a fancy to that hoss. I might want tobuy him myself some day. Would yuhmind hangin' on to him till I come backfrom where I'm goin'?"

"So that's how the wind blows?" theJudge said, disgustedly. "I might have

known it, too. He was so cheap. Well, Mr.Franklin, you may rest assured that thesorrel horse remains in my possessionuntil your return. Confound it all, I hate topart with him! He's a good horse."

"He's all that. But maybe, now, yorekeepin' him could be arranged if you likehim so much. I might not want him so badafter all."

"Corruption, corruption!" exclaimedJudge Allison, violently winking his righteye. "Would you bribe the bench, Mr.Franklin? No, not another word, sir. Weare drawing a trifle ahead of our subject.Let me impress upon you the necessity forprompt action. I should make my departurebefore sunset, if I were you."

"Deputies?"

"As to them, I cannot say," said theJudge, shaking his head, "but I am of theopinion that Marysville will not be ahealth resort to-night. The wicked walk inthe darkness, you know, and not half-an-hour ago I heard something that makes mequite positive that the said evildoers willendeavour to walk to some purpose thisevening. I was on the point of sending youwarning when you came in."

"Now that's right friendly of yuh, Judge.Me an' my friend won't forget it. But ain'tthere just some chance o' these hereevildoers a-comin' to see you?"

"I have a friend or two here myself. I

told you this morning that I stand in nodanger. I have had no reason to change myopinion."

"All right, you know best. I guessTelescope an' me'll pull our freightinstanter. We won't wait for my friends.When they come would yuh mind tellin''em we've gone to Damson?"

"I shall be delighted. Who are yourfriends?"

"Johnny Ramsay o' the Cross-in-a-boxan' Chuck Morgan o' the Bar S."

"'Chuck Morgan.' Well do I know thegentleman. I fined him twenty-five dollarslast fall for riding his horse into Billy

West's saloon, roping the stove, and tryingto drag it through the doorway."

"That's Chuck all over! But he didn't tellthe Bar S nothin' about a fine."

"The Bar S! What are you talking about?You're from the southern ranges, and I'dadvise you not to forget it."

"I won't again," Loudon grinned. "Solong, Judge, an' we're obliged to yuh for——"

"For nothing! For nothing! And don'tforget that either. Now good-bye and goodluck."

Loudon and Laguerre, having paid theirbill, left the hotel by the back way. A pale

little man, one of the dance-hall fiddlers,was flirting with the cook at the kitchendoorway. When the two men appeared,carrying their saddles and rifles, the paleone glided swiftly around the corner of thehouse.

"See that?" muttered Loudon, cinchingup rapidly.

Laguerre nodded.

"—— 'em!" he whispered. "Hope deyfollow! By Gar! I do, me!"

"No use tryin' to slide out past the corralnow," said Loudon. "We might as well useMain Street."

They were glad of their decision. They

rode into Main Street just in time to seeArcher and a companion turning the cornerof the dance hall. The Flying M menheaded northward. The other two turnedtheir horses' heads to the south.

Where Main Street became the trail,Loudon and Laguerre swung eastward andloped steadily for several miles. Whentheir shadows were long in front of themthey climbed the reverse slope of a littlehill.

Picketing their horses below the crestthey lay down behind an outcrop andwatched the back trail. Within thirtyminutes appeared two dots on a ridgethree miles distant.

"Just like wolves, ain't they?" chuckledLoudon, and wriggled backward.

"We weel bushwhack dem here, huh?"growled Laguerre. "Eet ees de good plass.Dey weel pass on our trail not twohundred yard away. We geet dem easy."

"No, not yet, Telescope," said Loudon."It ain't necessary, anyhow. We'll ride ontill it gets dark. Then we'll light a fire an'vamose, an' leave them holdin' the bag."

"Dat ees all right," Laguerre said, "butkeelin' ees better. W'y not? No one weelknow. Un eef dey do, w'at mattair? Deyare de teenhorn. We weel have dat allprove'. I say, keel dem, me."

Unconsciously Laguerre fingered thehandle of his skinning-knife. Loudonlaughed.

"C'mon," he said. "There'll be enough o'killin' before this job's over."

Grumbling, for to him an ambush wassuch a ridiculously simple method ofdisposing of two enemies, Laguerrefollowed his comrade. They rode till nightcame on. Then, in the middle of a mile-wide flat, where cottonwoods grewbeside a tiny creek, they dismounted andloosened cinches.

Hobbled, their bridles off, the horsesgrazed. Laguerre, still protesting, made thefire. He built it cunningly, after the Indian

manner, with an arrangement of sticks toleeward, so that it would burn slowly andfor a long time.

"Dere," said Laguerre, as the flames bitand took hold, "dat weel fool dem. But It'ink de Winchestair be de bes' t'ing, me."

Loudon laughed as he swung into thesaddle. Inwardly he quite agreed withLaguerre in the matter of an ambush.Enemies should be crushed asexpeditiously and with as little danger toone's self as possible. Yet Loudon wastoo humanly normal to practise thedoctrine in all its ruthlessness. To do thatone must be either a great general or asavage. Laguerre was not abnormal, but hewas half Indian, and at times he became

wholly one. This was one of the times.

For three miles the two men rode in thecreek water, then, guided by the stars, theyheaded southwest. Toward midnight theycame upon a well-marked trail. Theyknew it could be none other than the trailto Blossom, and they turned into it. Underthe spell of the horses' steady walk-alongLaguerre became reminiscent.

"De ole tam, dey are wit' me now, myfrien'," he observed, "but I do not feelvarree bad, me. I am on de move. Un soondere weel be beeg fight. I have been descout, I have leeve wit' Enjun, I have huntall t'ing', un I tell you, Tom, dere eesnothin' like huntin' de man. Dat mak' mefeel fine.

"By Gar! w'en I was young man eenBlackfoot camp, I was go ovair to deAssiniboine, un I run off seex pony un geettwo scalp. Dat mak' me beeg man wit' deBlackfoot. Dey say my medicine wasgood, un eet was good, by Gar! Eet wasde Winchestair. De Assiniboine w'atchase me was surprise'. Dey not know deWinchestair den. Deir gun all single-shot."

And Laguerre laughed at thisrecollection of aboriginal amazement.Loudon made no comment. The laughterdied in a grunt. The harsh voice resumed:

"By Gar! I bless de luck dat Scotty sen'me wit' you. I mean for queet un go 'waywit' you like I tol' you, un w'en dem horset'ief run off de pony, I know I can not

queet. I can not leave Scotty like dat. Sheees good frien' to me. But now I go 'waylike I wan', un I work for Scotty, too. I amalmost satisfy. But at de las' I weel go'way. De ole tam, dey weel mak' me. Imus' fin' Pony George before de en'."

"Maybe he's dead," suggested Loudon,moved to cheer up his friend.

"No, she ees not dead. She 'live yet. Ican not tell you how I know. I not knowhow myself, me. But I know. Somew'ereshe wait teel I come. Un I weel come. Iweel come. Den, w'en hees hair ees on mybridle, I weel be complete satisfy, un Iweel work on de ranch steady. I not carew'at happen den."

Laguerre fell silent. His reminiscentmood passed on to his comrade. Sinceleaving the Bend the days had been socrowded that Loudon had had no time tothink of anything save the work in hand.But now the tension had slackened, the olddays came back to Loudon, and he thoughtof the girl he had once loved.

He saw her as he used to see her on theirrides together along the Lazy River; hesaw her swinging in the hammock on theporch of the Bar S ranch house; he sawher smiling at him from the doorway of theroom in the Burr house; and he saw herdark eyes with the hurt look in them, hershaking shoulders when she turnedsidewise in the chair and wept, herblindly swaying figure when she stumbled

from the room. All these things he saw onthe screen of his mind.

Apparently she loved him. But was thesemblance the reality? It was all very wellfor Mrs. Burr to talk about coquettes. KateSaltoun had played with him, had led himon to propose, and then at the end had withcontumely and scorn refused him. Hissense of injury had so developed that hisbrain had come to dwell more on thecontumely and the scorn than it did on therefusal. Mankind is apt to lose sight of themain issue and to magnify minor eventstill at last the latter completelyovershadow the former.

"It ain't possible," reasoned Loudon, "tocare for a girl that called yuh a ignorant

puncher. Some day she might get mad an'call yuh that again, an' then where'd yuhbe? Wouldn't yuh look nice with a wifethat knowed she was better'n you an' toldyuh so whenever she felt like it?"

"Well, ain't she better'n you?" queriedthe honest voice of Inner Consciousness.

"She's lots better," admitted InnateStubbornness. "But she wants to keep stillabout it."

"An' she's shore a razzle-dazzler inlooks, ain't she?" persisted InnerConsciousness. "An' her ways havechanged a lot. An' she acts like she likesyuh. Lately yuh been kind o' missin' hersome yoreself, ain't yuh? Ain't yuh, huh?

Be kind o' nice to have her round rightalong, wouldn't it? Shore it would. Whichbein' so, don't yuh guess Mis' Burr knowswhat she's talkin' about? Why can't yuhhave sense an' take the lady's advice?"

"I won't be drove," insisted InnateStubbornness. "I won't be drove, an' that'swhatever."

Inner Consciousness immediately curledup and went to sleep. It had recognized thefutility of arguing with InnateStubbornness. Loudon wondered why hecould no longer think connectedly. Hegave up trying.

When day broke, the two men left thetrail and rode southward. They were tired,

but they did not dare halt. In the middle ofthe afternoon, emerging from a draw, theysaw the rails of the Great WesternRailroad a hundred yards ahead. Theyrode westward along the line and reachedDamson an hour later.

Two saloons, a blacksmith shop, threehouses, the station, and a water-tank, allhuddling on the flanks of a railroad corral,made up the town of Damson. It was anunlovely place, and, to complete theeffect, a dust-devil received them withopen arms.

"Looks like that corral had been usedlately," observed Loudon between coughs.

"Bunch o' pony stay dere tree-four day,

two week ago, mabbeso," qualifiedLaguerre.

They dismounted and entered thecracked and peeling station. The agent, apale, flat-chested young man, respondedreadily to Loudon's inquiries.

"Surely," he said, "about two weeksago"—riffling duplicate way-bills—"yep,on the seventeenth, Bill Archer shippedninety-five head Barred Twin Diamondhosses to Cram an' Docket in Piegan City.The two Maxson boys an' a feller theycalled Rudd was with Archer. Nope, notrouble at all. Eastbound? She's five hourslate. Due maybe in an hour an' a half if shedon't lose some more. Yep, I'll set theboard against her."

When Mr. Cram, senior member of thegreat horse-dealing firm of Cram &Docket, came down to his office in themorning, Tom Loudon was sitting on theoffice-steps, an expression of keenestsatisfaction on his sunburnt, cinder-grimedface. He had spent the greater part of thepreceding two hours strolling among thecorrals of Cram & Docket. Mr. Cramacknowledged by a curt nod the greetingof Loudon.

"I have all the men I can use," began Mr.Cram, gruffly, "and——"

"T'sall right," interrupted Loudon. "Iain't needin' a job this mornin'. I just

thought I'd tell yuh that there's ninety-fivehead o' stolen hosses in number eightcorral."

"Wha-what?" gasped Mr. Cram.

"Hurts, don't it? Shouldn't wonder. Yes,sir, them ninety-five Barred TwinDiamonds yuh bought offen Bill Archer o'Marysville an' shipped from Damson wasall stole from Scotty Mackenzie's FlyingM ranch up north near Paradise Bend, inthe Dogsoldier valley."

"Why—why—I don't understand,"stuttered Mr. Cram. "I don't believe aword of it."

Mr. Cram became suddenly aware of the

exceeding chilliness in a pair of gray eyes.

"Meanin' how?" queried Loudon, softly.

"Well, of course, I believe you're actingin good faith, but—— Oh, come inside."

"No need. My train's due in thirtyminutes. Scotty Mackenzie an' his foremanDoubleday will come down here an'prove ownership in about a week or so."

"But I've just sold that bunch to a firm inOmaha!"

"Yuh won't ship 'em. Yuh see, I thoughto' yore sellin' 'em, an' I woke up JudgeCurran at six o'clock an' got him to issue ainjunction against yore shippin' 'em. So Iguess yuh'll keep 'em till Scotty comes.

Yep, I guess yuh will, Mr. Cram. See,here comes the marshal now. Looks likethat white paper he's got might be theinjunction, don't it?"

CHAPTER XXI

THE JUDGE'S OFFICE

Loudon dropped off the train at Damsoninto the arms of Johnny Ramsay and ChuckMorgan. Bawling "Pop goes the weasel"they fell upon him, and the three dancedupon the platform till a board broke and

Chuck Morgan fell down.

Then, in company with the more sedateLaguerre, they jingled across the street toone of the saloons. An hour later theywere riding northward, and Loudon wastelling Johnny and Chuck what hadoccurred.

"O' course, just my luck!" complainedJohnny. "All done, an' I don't have a look-in. It's all the fault o' that criminal ChuckMorgan. He's out on Cow Creek, an' Ihave to comb the range for him."

"Yuh act like I done it a-purpose!"barked Chuck. "O' course I knowed yuhwas comin'! That's why I went out there.Think I'm a mind-reader?"

"Yuh wouldn't know a mind if yuh seenone," retorted Johnny. "How could yuh,not ownin' such a thing yoreself? Hey!Don't kick my cayuse! He's a orphan. Goon, Tom, tell us some more about Archer."

The four men did not push their mounts.There was no necessity for haste, and theyspent the following afternoon playingcards in a draw five miles out ofMarysville. When the sun had set, theyrode onward.

Separating at the edge of the town, thattheir arrival might be unremarked, theymet in the rear of Judge Allison's corral.Alone, Loudon approached the house onfoot. There was a light in the office. Herapped on the door.

"Come in," called the Judge.

Loudon pushed open the door. For aninstant he glimpsed the fat figure of theJudge and beyond him the surprised facesof Archer and Sheriff Block, and thenArcher's hand flung sidewise and knockedover the lamp. Loudon's gun was out, buthe did not dare fire for fear of hitting theJudge.

Bang! A tongue of flame spat pastLoudon's chin. Burning powder-grainssinged his neck. A hard object smote himviolently in the pit of the stomach andknocked the wind out of him. Loudon fellflat on his back. He was dimly consciousthat somebody, in leaping over him,stepped on his face, and that a horse had

broken into the Judge's office and waskicking the furniture to pieces.

"Whatsa matter? Whatsa matter?"demanded Johnny Ramsay, stooping overthe prostrate Loudon. "Who plugged yuh?"

"Ah—ugh—ugh—I—ca—ugh—can't—ugh—can't b-b-breathe!" gasped Loudon.

Johnny began to tear open his friend'sshirt.

"Where's he hit?" queried ChuckMorgan, anxiously.

Laguerre squatted down and struck amatch. None of the three paid the slightestattention to the terrific uproar in the officeof the Judge.

Smash! A table skittered across theroom and brought up against the wall.

Thud! Bump! Crash! A chair wasresolved into its component parts. Thehorse lay down on his back and rolled tothe accompaniment of falling books,pictures, and finally the bookcase.

Loudon suddenly regained his breathand, to the astonishment of his comradeswho believed him to be seriouslywounded, scrambled to his feet andplunged through the doorway into theoffice. Apparently the horse had gathereda friend unto himself and both animalswere striving to kick their way through thewall.

Loudon felt his way across the wreckageand laid hold of a waving leg. He workedhis way up that leg, and was kicked threetimes in the process, but at last hisclawing fingers found a throat—a too fatthroat. Loudon, realizing his mistake,groped purposefully for thirty seconds,and then closed his hands round anotherneck and exerted pressure. The tumultstilled.

"Thank you, friend," huskily breathed theJudge's voice. "Choke him some more, butdon't quite strangle him."

The Judge wriggled to his feet, andLoudon choked his squirming victimalmost into unconsciousness. A matchcrackled and flared. By its flickering light

were revealed Loudon kneeling onArcher's chest, Archer himself purple inthe face, the Judge, naked to the waist andpanting like a mogul's air-pump, and in thebackground the intensely interested facesof Loudon's three friends.

Loudon eased the pressure of his fingers,and Archer breathed again. Eyes rolling infright, the Judge's negro peered around thedoor-jamb. His master ordered him tofetch a lamp.

"Did the sheriff bring any deputies withhim?" inquired Loudon, hopefully.

"Not a deputy," replied the Judge.

"That's tough. Well, maybe we'll find

'em later. No use chasin' the sheriffanyhow."

When the lamp arrived, Loudonintroduced his friends. The Judge shookhands cordially, and recalled himself toChuck Morgan's memory in a way to makethat gentleman grin. One could not help butlike Judge Allison even if he did fine oneon occasion. His pink nakedness coveredby a new frock coat, the Judge sat downon the overturned bookcase.

Came a knock then at the door, and thevoice of the marshal requesting news ofthe Judge's welfare. The marshal enteredand gazed about him with incurious eyes.

"I thought mebbe yuh was plugged or

somethin', Judge," announced the marshal."Need me?"

"No, Jim," replied the Judge. "A gunwent off by accident, and I and my friendshave been taking a little exercise. Haveyou see the sheriff anywhere in thevicinity?"

"I seen him leavin' the vicinity as fast ashis hoss could carry him. If he keeps on a-goin' at the rate he was travellin' an' don'tstop nowheres he'd ought to be in Canadainside o' two days. Some o' yore friends isoutside, Judge. I'll just go tell 'em it's allright. If yuh want me later I'll be rightacross the street."

The marshal departed to allay popular

anxiety. The Judge smiled. Archer raisedhimself on one elbow.

"No use feelin' for yore gun," saidLoudon. "I've got it."

"Well, I'd like to know what yuhwrastled with me for, Judge," complainedArcher. "You an' me's always beenfriends."

"Friendship ceases when any friendupsets my reading-lamp," countered theJudge. "You might have set the house in ablaze. It struck me, you know, that youmight possibly leave without explainingyour action. Hence my attempt at forciblerestraint. I had no other reason, of course.What other reason could I have?"

Archer looked his unbelief. The Judgewinked at Loudon.

"Judge," said Loudon, "in the corrals o'Cram an' Docket in Piegan City are ninety-five head o' Barred Twin Diamondhosses, all stole from the Flyin' M ranchup near Paradise Bend. Them hosses wasshipped from Damson by Bill Archerhere, the two Maxson boys, an' Rudd o'the 88.

"The five hosses in Archer's corral an'the one he sold you was in the stolenbunch, too. My friend, TelescopeLaguerre, an' I can swear to a few of 'em,an' any expert could tell yuh the brand wasaltered from the Flyin' M. How about it,Archer?"

"Nothin' to say," replied Archer,defiantly.

"This is a serious charge," murmuredJudge Allison. "Do you wish me to issuewarrants for Archer and the others, Mr.Franklin?"

"Issue all the —— warrants yo're a mindto!" cried Archer. "I ain't talkin'!"

"Now look here," said Loudon. "Turnyore tongue loose an' it won't go so hardwith yuh. We know who's behind yuh.What's the use o' yore swingin' for them?Have sense, man. There's enough evidenceagainst yuh to lynch yuh forty times."

"Bring on yore bale o' rope," snarled

Archer. "I ain't worryin' none. If yuh knowwho's behind me, what's the use o' askin'me anythin'?"

The contumacious Archer had the rightsof the matter, and Loudon realized it.

"We'd ought to lynch him," declaredJohnny Ramsay with conviction.

"Not in Marysville, young man," said theJudge. "Having, as it were, been themeans of preventing Archer's escape, Ican not allow him to be hung without dueprocess of law. I shall be delighted tocommit him to the calaboose. Archer, youconfounded rascal, I shall attach yourdance hall until I recover the price of thathorse you sold me! I thought you were a

friend of mine, and you make me areceiver of stolen property. The bestanimal I ever bought, too. Damit, sir! Ishall try you separately for each horse!"

"He might mebbe escape or somethin',"dubiously suggested Chuck Morgan.

"Chuck, the individuals whom I commitdo not escape," the Judge said, severely."And in the case of Archer I shall takeparticular pains to see that he does notbreak jail. Have no doubts on that score."

He broke off and cursed Archer withwholly unjudicial fervour.

"Damit!" he continued. "If I hadn't knownthat the rascal wanted the horse in order to

conceal evidence, I'd have sold it back tohim to-night. The five Barred TwinDiamond horses in his corral are nolonger there. They vanished yesterday. Butthe sorrel won't vanish. He'll stay right inmy corral till wanted. Gentlemen, lastnight someone endeavoured to steal him.Luckily, I was watching and with a coupleof shots I drove off the would-be thief.

"To-night Archer and the sheriff came tome and wished to buy the animal. Irefused, and they were endeavouring topersuade me when you entered, Mr.Franklin. By the way, if you run acrossThomas Loudon, you might tell him thatthe warrant issued for him has beenquashed. Tell him that I hope to meet himin the not-too-distant future. Understand—

in the future? I shall see that the Maxsonboys are put under arrest, and a warrantissued for Rudd."

"No need of issuin' one for him," saidLoudon.

"Probably not. Still, the legal formalitiesmust be observed."

"Shore, you've got the right idea, Judge.Well, I guess we might as well be weavin'along. So long, Judge."

"So long, Mr. Franklin. So long,gentlemen. On your way out I wish you'drequest the marshal to step in."

"Wat ees next?" inquired Laguerre, whenthe four were in the saddle.

"Somebody's got to go north an' notifyScotty," replied Loudon. "You an' I'llscamper round the Lazy River country an'see what we can dig up."

"I know just what's comin'!" exclaimedJohnny Ramsay, disgustedly. "Chuck an'me are elected to travel while you an'Telescope have all the fun. Yo'reglommin' all the excitement. It ain't right."

"Don't fret none, Johnny-jump-up,"grinned Loudon. "Yuh'll have all theexcitement on the map when yuh comeback with Scotty Mackenzie an' the Flyin'M outfit. What do yuh s'pose'll happenwhen we go bulgin' out to the 88 to grabRudd? Yuh don't think there won't be abattle, do yuh?"

"There'll be a skirmish, anyway, beforewe get back," complained Johnny, "or Idon't know you."

"I can't help that, can I? If some 88 sporttries to ventilate me an' Telescope wecan't wait for you fellahs. So that's thehow of it. You an' Chuck slide up to theFlyin' M, an' when yuh come back yuh'llfind Telescope an' me waitin' for yuh atthe Cross-in-a-box. See?"

"Oh, I see all right," grunted ChuckMorgan. "I see yo're a hawg, Tom. All yuhneed is bristles. Tell yuh what, sendJohnny, an' let me stay with you. Don'tneed two fellers to carry one littlemessage."

"Not on yore life!" cried the indignantJohnny. "Send Chuck by himself. I don'twanna go. I never did like the climate upon the Dogsoldier nohow. It ain't healthy,an' it'll make me sick or somethin'. An' Iain't a-goin' to risk my valuable health forno man. No, sir, little Johnny Ramsay ain'tgoin' to."

"When yuh see Scotty," said Loudon,totally unmindful of Johnny's tirade, "tellhim to bring four or five o' the boys fromthe Bend besides the reg'lar outfit. He'llwant to leave a couple at the ranch. Withus four that'll be fifteen or sixteen men."

"We're elected all right, Chuck," saidJohnny, mournfully.

"An' don't get rambunctious an' ridethrough Farewell," pursued Loudon. "Rideround it—ride 'way round it."

"An' be sure an' wrap up our tootsiesgood an' warm every night," contributedChuck Morgan.

"An' take our soothin' sirup before eachmeal," added Johnny Ramsay. "Lend usyore teethin' ring, Tom. I done forgotmine, an' I'm plumb shore that carelessinfant, Chuck, has lost his."

CHAPTER XXII

UNDER THE RIDGE

At day's end, some forty-eight hoursafter parting with Johnny Ramsay andChuck Morgan, Loudon and Laguerre rodeup to the Bar S line-camp on Pack-saddleCreek. Hockling and Red Kane wereunsaddling.

"Hello, rustler!" bawled Red Kane."Don't yuh know no better'n to comefussin' round me when I'm broke? There'stwo hundred dollars reward for yuh."

"Howdy, Red," said Loudon, grinning."Hello, Hock. Shake hands with myfriend, Mr. Laguerre. Telescope, thesehere bandits are Mr. Hockling an' Mr.Kane—Red for short. Boys, did I hear yuh

say two hundred? Well, that shore makesme plumb ashamed. A thousand ain't nonetoo much for a road-agent like me."

"Yo're right it ain't," laughed Hockling."But say, Tom, no jokin', yesterday Redan' me cut the trail o' six deputies—yeah,some o' that Farewell crowd—an' theywas a-huntin' for yuh. It was them told usabout the reward."

"Where'd yuh meet 'em?" questionedLoudon.

"Down on the Lazy. They was ridin'east."

"Headin' for the Cross-in-a-box likely."

"Dunno as they'll go that far. From what

they said I guess now they think yo'reeither on this range or holin' out in theFryin' Pans. Red asked 'em didn't theyneed some more men—said six gentsdidn't seem none too plenteous for the job.They got kind o' mad, but they managed tohawg-tie their tempers. I dunno why."

"No, yuh don't!" chuckled Red Kane."Why, gents, Hock had his Winchesteracross his horn an' was a-coverin' 'em thewhole time. Quarrelsome feller, thatHock. Just as soon shoot yuh as sayhowdy."

"I never did like that Farewell gang,"Hockling explained, shamefacedly. "Theyalways remind me o' kyotes, rattlers, an'such. Anyway, Tom, the outfit's with yuh.

If them fellers jump yuh, Farewell willsee some fun. Speakin' o' fun, Farewellain't knucklin' to Block any too muchlately. Mike Flynn an' Buck Simpson hadwords the other day, an' Buck got fourteenbuckshot in his leg. He was lucky he didn'tlose his foot. Buck bein' a plumbfavouryte o' the sheriff, Block comebulgin' down to arrest Mike, an' Mike hestood off the sheriff with a Winchester, an'cussed him to hellenback, an' the sheriffdidn't arrest him. Now Mike's friends taketurns livin' with him, an' keepin' guardwhile he sleeps. Dunno how it'll end. Be ablowoff mighty soon, I guess."

"You bet," concurred Loudon. "Seenanythin' o' Marvin or Rudd lately?"

"Seen Rudd down near Box Hill twodays ago. He was over on our side thecreek. Said he was huntin' strays. Iknowed he was lyin', an' I watched himfrom the top o' Box Hill till he wentback."

"Yeah," cried Red Kane, busy at thecooking-fire, "Hock come in that night a-cussin' an' a-swearin' 'cause Rudd hadn'tgiven him a chance to finish what Cap'nBurr started. Talked real brutal 'boutRudd, Hock did. Me, I like the 88 outfit.They're real gentle little woolly lambs, an'some day when I ain't got nothin' else todo I'm goin' over there with a rifle an'make 'em a heap gentler."

"Yuh'll have the chance before a great

while," Loudon said, seriously.

"Is it them cows we lost?" inquiredHockling, eagerly.

"I can't tell yuh yet awhile," repliedLoudon. "Just keep yore mouths shut an' beready."

"Them's the pleasantest words I've heardin years," stated Red Kane. "Grub pile,folks. Come an' get it."

Loudon and Laguerre spent the night atthe line-camp. In the morning theyrecrossed the creek. They rode withWinchesters across their laps, and theytook advantage of every bit of cover thebroken country afforded. Occasionally

they halted, and one or the other wentforward on foot and spied out from ridge-crest or knoll-top the line of advance.

By ten o'clock they had worked south tothe foot of a plateau-like ridge oppositeBox Hill and about a mile from the creek.For the tenth time that morning Loudondismounted. He sweated up the incline,panted across the broad flat top of theridge, and plumped himself down behindan outcrop on the edge of the reverseslope. He took off his hat, poked his headpast the ragged corner of the rock, andpeered down into a wide-bottomed draw.

What he saw was sufficiently amazing.Halfway down the reverse slope, where astunted pine grew beside a boulder, a man

lay on his stomach. Loudon could see onlyhis legs. The branches of the pineconcealed the upper half of his body. Atthe bottom of the slope, outlined against athicket of red sumac, Kate Saltoun,mounted on a black horse, was talking tothe puncher Rudd.

The duplicity of woman! Loudon's firstthought was that Kate was at her old-timetricks—flirting again. His second was thatshe was aiding the 88 in their nefariouspractices.

What did it mean? Loudon, his eyes hardas gray flint, edged noiselessly backward,and sat up behind the outcrop. Hesignalled Laguerre by placing two fingerson his lips, pointing over his shoulder, and

holding up one finger twice.

Then Loudon flattened his body at thecorner of the outcrop, shoved his ruleforward, and covered Rudd. Forefinger ontrigger, thumb ready to cock the hammer,he waited.

He could not hear what the two by thesumac bushes were saying. They werefully a hundred yards distant. But it wasevident by the way Kate leaned forwardand tapped her saddle-horn that she wasvery much in earnest. Frequently Ruddshook his head.

Loudon heard a faint rustle at his side.He turned his head. Laguerre wascrawling into position.

"Dunno who that sport under the pineis," whispered Loudon. "You take himanyhow, an' I'll take Rudd. Get 'em bothwithout a shot. It's a cinch."

Suddenly, after a decidedly emphaticshake of Rudd's head, Kate's figurestraightened, and she struck her saddle-horn a sharp blow with the flat of herhand. It was an action characteristic ofKate. She always employed it whenannoyed.

Loudon smiled grimly. With an impatienttug Kate pulled a white object from hersaddle-pocket and flung it at Rudd. Thenshe wheeled her horse on his hindlegs,jumped him ahead, and set off at a tearingrun.

Rudd stooped to pick up the fallen whiteobject, and Loudon opened his mouth tobawl a command when he was forestalledby the watcher under the pine.

"Hands up!" came in the unmistakablebellow of Marvin, the 88 range-boss.

Rudd stood up, his hands above hishead. The white object lay at his feet.Kate had halted her horse at Marvin'sshout. She turned in her saddle and lookedback.

"Keep a-goin', lady!" yelled Marvin."You've done enough, you have! Now youwander, an' be quick about it!"

"Shut up, Marvin!" called Loudon. "You

always did talk too much! Keep yorepaws up, Rudd! This ain't nothin' like arescue for yuh!"

"You know dat feller under de tree?"demanded Laguerre.

"Not the way you mean, Telescope,"replied Loudon, without removing hiseyes from Rudd. "He's one o' Blakely'sgang—their range-boss."

"Geet up on you han's un knees, youfeller," instantly ordered Laguerre, "unmove back slow."

Loudon and Laguerre, covering theirmen, moved down the slope. The 88puncher took his defeat well. The light-

blue eyes above the snub nose metLoudon's stare serenely.

"Yo're a whizzer," observed Rudd. "Iwouldn't play poker with yuh for a clayfarm in Arkinsaw. Yo're too lucky."

"It's a habit I've got," said Loudon."Now if I was you, Rudd, I'd lower myleft hand nice an' easy, an' I'd sort o' workmy gun-belt down till it slid over myknees, an' I could step out of it."

Rudd complied with this suggestion, andobeyed Loudon's request that he steprearward a few feet and turn his back.Loudon laid down his rifle and drew hissix-shooter. With his left hand he scoopedthe belt to one side and picked up the

white object. His eyes told him that it wasa lady's knotted handkerchief, and hisfingers that three twenty-dollar goldpieces were contained therein. Loudoncould not have been more astounded ifRudd had suddenly sprouted two hornsand a tail.

"Good-bye one small drunk an' a newsaddle," remarked Rudd, hearing theclinking of the gold.

"You —— sneak!" snarled Marvin,approaching under convoy of Laguerre. "Iwondered what yuh wanted yore moneyfor this mornin'. I've been watchin' yuh forthe last two weeks. I seen yuh a-comin'back from the Bar S range three days ago.Tryin' to sell us out, huh?"

"Yo're a liar," retorted Rudd, calmly. "Iain't tellin' nothin' I know. Not that I knownothin' nohow."

"By ——, gents!" exclaimed Marvin. "Iask yuh as a favour to just gimme tenminutes barehanded with that tin-horn!Yuh can do what you like with me after."

"We will anyway," said Loudon.

"What is this—a sewin' circle?" Ruddinquired, contemptuously. "I'd as soon dieo' snakebite as be talked to death."

"Well, if I was you, Tom Loudon,"sneered Marvin, "I'd try to find out justwhat Rudd means by meetin' Old Salt'sgirl. There may be more to it than——"

"Come round in front here, Marvin,"commanded Loudon. "Come all the wayround. That's it. Telescope, will yuhkindly keep an eye on the other party?Now, Marvin, get down on yore knees.Down, yuh yellow pup! Yo're a-crowdin'the Gates Ajar so close yuh can hear 'emcreak. Marvin, say, 'I'm ashamed o'myself, an' I take it back, an' I didn't meannothin' nohow.' Say it out real loud."

Slowly, his face a mask of venomoushate, Marvin repeated the words.

"Get up, an' face round," continuedLoudon. "No, not so close to Rudd. Aboutfive yards to his right, so yuh won't betempted."

For the past two minutes Loudon hadbeen aware of Kate's approach. But he didnot turn his head even when she halted herhorse almost beside him.

"What do you intend doing with thesemen, Tom?" she inquired, a perceptiblepause between the last two words of thesentence.

"Take 'em to the Cross-in-a-box,"replied Loudon, without looking at her."They'll hang—in time."

"May I have a few words alone withyou?"

"Shore, ma'am, shore. I guess two won'tbe too many to watch, Telescope."

He walked at Kate's stirrup till theywere out of earshot. Then he turned andlooked up into her face in silence. Shegazed at him with a curious, questioninglook in her black eyes.

She had become thinner since their lastmeeting. But her lips were as red as ever.She had lost none of her beauty. Loudonraised his hand. In the open palm was theknotted bit of linen containing the goldpieces.

"Here's yore handkerchief," said he.

Kate made no move to take it. Instead,she continued to look at him, a crookedlittle smile on her lips. Loudon was thefirst to lower his gaze. His arm dropped to

his side.

"You are trying to be disagreeable," saidKate, "and you succeed in being foolish.The money belongs to that man. He earnedit, and it's his."

"It won't do him any good," mutteredLoudon.

"That depends on how he spends it."

"He'll never live to spend it."

"You're mistaken. You will let him go."

"That's likely, that is!"

"It's quite likely. In fact, it's a certainty.You will let Rudd go."

"Djuh know he's a hoss thief? Do yuh?I've got proof. He's one o' the bunch stoleScotty's hosses. An' yuh want me to lethim go?"

"I want you to let him go."

"Well, I won't."

"Listen, Tom, listen to me, please. Andtake off that horrid, stubborn expression.You look exactly like a sulky child. There,that's much better. Don't smile if it hurtsyou, grumpy. There, I knew it wouldcome. Oh, it's gone again. Well, anyhow,you haven't forgotten how to smile, andthat's a blessing."

"I hate to hurry yuh, but——"

"I know what a bore it is to becompelled to listen to me, but you'll haveto endure the ordeal. Listen, if it hadn'tbeen for me Rudd wouldn't have been hereto-day, and you wouldn't have caughthim."

"We'd have caught him later."

"Perhaps you wouldn't. At any rate, he'dprobably have had a chance to make afight. As it is, he was caught like a rat in atrap. And if it wasn't for me he wouldn'tbe in the trap."

"Marvin would 'a' got him if we didn't."

"Marvin has nothing to do with it. Thefact remains that I am to blame for the

capture of Rudd."

"We're much obliged to yuh."

"That isn't worthy of you, Tom."

"I beg yore pardon. I was too quick."

"Granted. You were. Since I am toblame, I can do no less than see that hegoes free."

"It's no use a-talkin'. He don't go free."

"He will—if I have to keep you here tilldoomsday. Listen, did you remark thesublime manner in which Marvin jumpedat conclusions? You did. Exactly."

"I knowed he was wrong, o' course."

"Oh, you did. How did you know?"

"Well—I—knowed you."

To Loudon's astonishment Kate burstinto shrill laughter.

"For this certificate of good character Ithank you," said she, wiping her eyes."Heavens, if you hadn't made me laugh I'dhave gone off into hysterics! What oddminds you men have. Upon my word, I—but no matter. Marvin has no grounds forsaying that Rudd tried to sell out the 88. Iought to know. I did my best to pump him,but I couldn't get a word out of him. He isa clam. I worked so hard, too. It made mefrightfully angry."

"So that was it! I know yuh was madabout somethin' when yuh banged yorehorn thataway an' throwed thathandkerchief at him. But—but—say, whatwas the money for, anyhow?"

"That I cannot tell you. I amendeavouring at the present moment topoint out the difference between Marvinand Rudd. Marvin thought—variousthings, while Rudd, with good reason forbelieving that I had betrayed him—itreally had a suspicious look about it, youknow—uttered no word of reproach."

"Well, just 'cause he acts like a whiteman, is that any reason for lettin' him go?"

"It is my reason for standing by him."

"Well, you've stood by him. Yuh can't domore. An' it ain't done a bit of good."

"If you knew what he did you'd let himgo."

"I do know. That's why I'm freezin' tohim."

"If you knew what he did for—for me,"patiently persisted Kate, "you'd let himgo."

"What did he do for you?"

"I can't tell you. Take my word for it,can't you?"

"How can I? He's a hoss thief."

"Listen, he was leaving this country.He's quitting the 88 for good. If he hadgotten away he'd never have troubledagain the Lazy or Dogsoldier ranches.What, then, will you gain by hanginghim?"

"It's the law, Kate—the law of the range.You know that."

"Law! Piecrust! If I told you that Ruddhad saved my life at the risk of his ownwould you let him go?"

"An' he took money for that?" Disgustwas rampant in Loudon's tone.

"The taking part is neither here nor there.Remains the fact of his saving my life—at

the risk of his own, remember. Now willyou let him go? Oh, it's no use askinghim," she added, quickly, as Loudon halfturned. "He'd probably deny it."

"Oh, what's the use, Kate?" exclaimedLoudon, impatiently. "If Rudd had stolenmy hoss or done somethin' special to meI'd let him go to oblige yuh, but it's Scottyhas the say. His hosses was stole. An' I'mworkin' for Scotty. Can't yuh see how itis?"

"I see that you intend to deny myrequest," Kate said, her black eyes fixedunwaveringly on Loudon's gray ones.

"I've got to."

"Very well. But suppose we have Ruddcome here a moment. I'd like you to hearwhat he has to say. Oh, I'll make him talk."

"But——"

"Good heavens! You're not going torefuse me this little favour, are you?Rudd's a prisoner. He can't get away. Callhim over, and afterward if you intend tohold him there's nothing to prevent you."

Loudon shouted to Laguerre. Rudd, hisarms still elevated, walked toward themslowly. Loudon kept him covered. Katedismounted, leaving the reins on herhorse's neck.

"Tom," said she, "give me that money,

please. I'd like to give it to him myself."

Loudon handed her the handkerchief.Kate took it and leaned against her horse'sshoulder. One arm was flung across thesaddle. Rudd halted in front of Loudon.Kate, holding the horse by the bit, steppedforward and stood beside Loudon.

"Here he is," said Loudon. "What——"

With surprising agility Kate whirled,seized Loudon's gun hand in a desperategrip and jammed her thumb down betweenthe hammer and the firing-pin. Her leftarm encircled his waist, and her head wastwisted sidewise under his chin.

"Run!" she panted. "My horse! The

money's in the saddle-pocket!"

Kate hardly needed to speak. Rudd hadleaped the instant Loudon's six-shooterwas deflected. Before the word "saddle-pocket" had passed Kate's lips Rudd wasin the black's saddle, and the animal wasthundering away at a furious gallop.

Loudon, straining to break the girl's holdwithout hurting her, failed lamentably. Thetwo struggling figures swayed to and fro,Kate, her teeth set, hanging on like abulldog. Loudon's muscles suddenlyrelaxed.

"All right," he said, "he's out o' range."

Kate loosened her hold on his waist and

endeavoured to draw back. But her righthand was fast.

"You pulled the trigger, Tom," said she,calmly. "My thumb's caught."

Loudon raised the hammer, and the handfell away. The tender flesh of the thumbwas cruelly torn. The blood dripped onthe grass. Loudon holstered his six-shooter.

"Gimme yore hand," ordered Loudon,roughly.

He lifted her hand, placed her thumb tohis lips, and sucked the wound clean. Katewatched him in silence. When the edges ofthe torn flesh were white and puckery

Loudon cut away part of Kate's sleeve andmade a bandage of the fabric.

"Guess yuh'll be all right now," he said."But yuh hadn't ought to 'a' done a fooltrick like that. Yuh might 'a' got lockjaw."

"Thank you," Kate said, white-lipped."Why—why don't you give me fits for—for helping him to escape?"

"It's done," Loudon replied, simply."Yuh had yore reasons, I guess."

"Yes, I had my reasons." Kate's tone waslifeless.

Without another word they walked backto where Laguerre stood beside the sumacbushes. The half-breed's face was

impassive, but there was a slight twinklein his eye as he threw a quick look atKate.

"You'll be leavin' us now, MissSaltoun," observed Loudon, coldly. "I'llget yuh Rudd's pony."

Silently he led forward Rudd'srawboned cayuse and held him while Katemounted. She settled her feet in thestirrups and picked up the reins. She metLoudon's gaze bravely, but her eyes wereshining with unshed tears. Kate slid hertongue across the edges of her dry lips.She tried to speak, but could not. Shebowed her head and touched her horsewith the spur.

"Where's yore hoss, Marvin?" inquiredLoudon.

"Over behind the ridge in a gully,"replied Marvin. "What yuh goin' to dowith me?"

"Hang yuh—in time."

"What for?"

"For bein' too active, Marvin, an' forpickin' the wrong friends. Yuh see,Marvin, we've caught Bill Archer an' theMaxson boys, an' the hosses are waitin'for Scotty in Cram an' Docket's corrals inPiegan City. Shorty Simms has cashed.Rudd's wandered, an' now we've caughtyou. We're sort o' whittlin' yuh down like.

When Scotty comes we'll get the rest o'yuh. Yuh see, Marvin, yuh hadn't ought to'a' used Bill Archer. He talks when he'sdrunk."

To this statement Marvin immediatelyattributed the most sinister meaning evenas Loudon intended he should. Wherein hehad failed with Archer, Loudon hoped tosucceed with Marvin. The latter, giventime to consider impending death might, ifpromised immunity, talk freely.

"Where we goin' now?" Marvininquired, uneasily.

"To the Cross-in-a-box," repliedLoudon, strapping on Rudd's cartridge-belt—Laguerre was wearing Marvin's. "I

want Jack Richie to see yuh. An' don't gettalkative about how Rudd got away. I tellyuh flat if yuh open yore mouth about thatlady yuh'll be committin' suicide."

"Dat ees right," declared Laguerre,staring fixedly at the range-boss. "Onlyyou un Rudd was here. I see nobody else."

"You hear, Marvin," Loudon said,grimly. "Now stick yore hands behindyore back. I'm goin' to tie 'em up."

Marvin swore—and obeyed.

"Don't tie 'em so tight," he entreated.

"Yo're too slippery to take chances on,"retorted Loudon. "Seen the sheriff lately?"

"Ain't seen him for a month."

"Yo're a cheerful liar. Still it don'tmatter much. He'll be gathered in with therest o' you murderers when the timecomes. They say hangin's an easy death—like drownin'. Djever think of it, Marvin?"

That luckless wight swore again. Blackgloom rode his soul.

"All set," announced Loudon. "C'mon."

The three plodded up the slope of theridge. When Loudon's head rose above thecrest he saw to his intense disgust that sixhorsemen were picturesquely groupedabout Brown Jug and the gray. The sixwere staring in various directions. Two

were gazing directly at the three on theridge. Loudon and Laguerre, forgettingtheir charge for the moment, flungthemselves down.

Promptly the six men tumbled out oftheir saddles and began to work theirWinchesters. Loudon, aiming with care,sent an accurate bullet through a man's leg.Laguerre dropped a horse.

Then Loudon, mindful of the prisoner,looked over his shoulder. Marvin, runninglike a frightened goat, was half-way to theshelter of the sumacs.

"Blow —— out of 'em, Telescope!"cried Loudon. "I got to get Marvin!"

He rolled a few yards down the slopeand knelt on one knee. He dropped twobullets in quick succession in front ofMarvin's flying feet.

"C'mon back!" he shouted. "The next onegoes plumb centre!"

Marvin halted. He returned slowly.Loudon, watching him, became aware thatLaguerre's rifle was silent. He glancedquickly around. Laguerre, with hisskinning-knife, was picking frantically at ajammed cartridge. At his feet lay Marvin'srifle, the lever half down, and the bulletend of a cartridge protruding from thebreech. Both rifles had jammed at thecrucial moment.

"Take mine," said Loudon, and tossedhis rifle to Laguerre. "'Tsall right,Marvin," he continued in a shout, "Keep a-comin'. I can reach yuh with a Colt! Whatyuh cussin' about, Telescope? Mine jam,too?"

"Dem feller pull out," growled Laguerre."While I was try for feex my Winchestairdey spleet un go two way. Dey behin' denex' heel now. Dey tak' our pony too, ——'em."

"Set us afoot, huh? That's nice. Couldn'thave a better place to surround us in,neither. No cover this side. Let's cross thedraw. There's somethin' that looks likerocks over there."

Driving Marvin ahead of them theycrossed the draw at a brisk trot andclimbed the opposite slope. Loudon hadnot been mistaken. There were rocks onthe ground beyond. From the edge of thedraw the land fell away in a three-milesweep to the foot of a low hill. Loudongrinned.

"They can't Injun up on us from thisside," he said. "We'll stand 'em off allright."

Swiftly they filled in with rocks thespace between two fair-sized boulders.Then they tied the wretched Marvin'sankles and rolled him over on his facebehind their tiny breastwork.

"I don't think any lead'll come through,"said Loudon, cheerfully. "It looks prettysolid. But it would shore be a joke if oneo' yore friend's bullets should sift throughyuh, Marvin, now wouldn't it?"

Leaving Marvin to discover, ifProvidence so willed, the point of thejoke, Loudon picked up his rifle and laydown behind the smallest boulder.Laguerre, lying on his side, was workingat his jammed breech action. He worriedthe shell out at last, and took his place.

Loudon saw Laguerre put a small pebblein his mouth, and he frowned. Not till thenhad he realized that he was thirsty. Hefollowed Laguerre's example. Pack-saddle Creek was close by, and it might as

well have been distant a hundred miles.The thought made Loudon twice as thirsty,in spite of the pebble rolling under histongue. Far down the draw, on Loudon'sside of the breastwork, two ridersappeared.

"Two of 'em in sight, Telescope," saidLoudon. "See any?"

"Me, no. What dey do, dem two?"

"They're crossin' the draw. Now they'reclimbin' up. They think we're still wherewe was. Hope they come right along."

The two riders galloped toward theboulders. Loudon and Laguerre, flatteningtheir bodies, squeezed close to the rock.

When the galloping pair were threequarters of a mile distant they halted.

"They don't just like the looks o' theserocks," observed Loudon. "Well, they giveus credit o' havin' sense, anyway."

The two horsemen began to circle.Loudon settled himself and squinted alonghis sights. His finger dragged on thetrigger. It was a long shot, and he missed.The two men immediately separated. Onerode back over the way they had come.The other galloped out a mile and a half,then turned and rode parallel to the draw.Opposite the rear of the breastwork hehalted.

"How they do think of everythin',"remarked Loudon. "But if they guess wecan't get away to-night they can guessagain. I dunno what we'll do with Marvin.

Yo're puttin' us to a heap o' trouble, youare, Mister Range-Boss. Say, while I thinkof it, have yuh branded anymore CrossedDumbbell cows?"

Marvin was silent. The mocking voicecontinued:

"That was shore well thought of,Marvin, but yuh was whirlin' too wide aloop. Instead o' tryin' to make me out arustler yuh'd ought to 'a' shot me in theback like yuh did the Sheriff o' Sunset."

"I didn't kill him," grunted the stungMarvin.

"I know yuh didn't. When I said you Imeant yore outfit. Shorty Simms pulled the

trigger."

"Nothin' to do with me."

"Maybe not. We'll see."

"Yuh can't prove nothin'."

"Keep on a-thinkin' so if it helps yuhany. Yuh'd ought to know, Marvin, that inany gang o' thieves there's always onesquealer, sometimes two. In this case,one's enough, but we don't object toanother."

"Oh, ——!" grunted Marvin. "Yuh giveme a pain."

"I expect. Yuh see, Marvin, a while backyuh accused Rudd o' sellin' yuh out. Them

words have a right innocent sound, ain'tthey now? Shore they have. Why, yuhblind fool, do yuh s'pose we'd be a-freezin' to yuh this way if we didn't haveyuh dead to rights?"

Marvin lay very still. He almostappeared not to breathe.

"Yuh ain't got out o' this hole yet," hemuttered.

"We will, don't yuh worry none aboutthat. An' we'll take yuh with us—whereverwe go. Think it all over, Marvin. I mayhave something' to say to yuh later."

Crack! A rifle spoke on the oppositeridge, and a bullet glanced off Loudon's

boulder with a discordant whistle. Crack!Crack! Crack! Long 45-90 bullets struckthe breast-work with sharp splinteringsounds, or ripped overhead, hummingshrilly.

"Let's work the old game on 'em,"suggested Loudon. "There's room for twomy side."

Laguerre crawled over and lay downbeside Loudon. The latter had alignedseveral large rocks beside his boulder.Between these rocks the two thrust thebarrels of their rifles. One would fire. Onthe heels of the shot an opposing riflewould spit back. Then the other would fireinto the gray of the smoke-cloud.

It is an old trick, well known to theIndian fighters. Loudon and Laguerreemployed it for half an hour. Then theenemy bethought themselves of it, andLaguerre returned to the other end of thebreastwork with a hole in his hat and hisvest neatly ripped down the back.

The five deputies kept up a droppingfire. But the two behind the breastworkreplied infrequently. Ammunition must beconserved. They anticipated brisk workafter nightfall. They waited, vigorouslychewing pebbles, and becoming thirstierby the minute. The boulders radiated heatlike ovens.

The afternoon lengthened. It was nearingfive o'clock when Loudon suddenly raised

his head.

"Where was that rifle?" he inquired,sharply.

"Ovair yondair—not on de ridge,"replied Laguerre.

"That's what I thought. Maybe—thereshe goes again. Two of 'em."

The rifles on the ridge snarled angrily.But no bullets struck the breastwork. Thebarking of the deputies' rifles becameirregular, drifted southward, then ceasedaltogether. A few minutes later fivehorsemen and a led horse crossed thedraw a mile to the south.

"Two of 'em hit bad," declared Loudon.

"Yuh bet yuh," said Laguerre. "See dat!One of 'em tumble off."

"They're gettin' him aboard again. Takin'our hosses along, the skunks! There goesour friend out yonder."

The man who had been watching the rearof the breast-work galloped to meet hisfriends. Five minutes later they alldisappeared behind one of the westernhills.

"Hey, you fellers!" bawled a voice fromthe shelter of the ridge across the valley."Where are yuh, anyway?"

"That's Red Kane," laughed Loudon, andstood up. "Here we are!" he yelled.

"C'mon over! We're all right. Not ascratch!"

Red Kane and Hockling, leading threehorses, appeared on the crest of the ridge.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SMOKE OF CONFLICT

"Found him hid right pretty in a gully,"said Hockling, indicating the extra horse.

"Yore hoss, Marvin?" queried Loudon.

Marvin nodded surlily. He had had hisshare of the water in the rescuers'canteens, but he was no happier.

"It's shore providential, yore happenin'down this way," said Loudon. "We'll doas much for you some day."

"Yo're welcome, but it ain't noneprovidential, Tom," denied Hockling. "Mean' Red was fixin' the corral fence at thecamp when up come Kate Saltoun on thejump an' says how yuh was standin' off sixmen opposite Box Hill. 'It's themdeputies!' shouts Red, an' ropes a hossimmediate. Well, we come along, thethree of us, an' that's all. It was long range,but I think I drilled one deputy. Redcreased one, too."

"Yuh bet I did!" cried Red Kane. "I seenhis arm flop when I fired."

"What's that about the three o' yuh comin'along?" said Loudon.

"Why, Kate, she was with us. Shechanged her saddle to one of our freshhosses. She wouldn't quit nohow till sheheard yuh say yuh was all right. Then shestarted off home. Funny, she was ridin' a88 pony when she struck the line-camp."

"That's odd, but it don't matter none. I'll—I'll see Kate later."

"Shore," said Hockling, wondering at thelack of warmth in Loudon's tone. ButWestern etiquette forbids the questioning

of another's motives.

"Say," remarked Red, hastening to breakthe awkward silence, "say, won't Blockfeel happy when he finds we've doneventilated his deputies?"

"Yeah," replied Loudon, "an' the funnypart of it is, they ain't got no right to arrestme. That warrant has been pulled in."

"Yuh shore forgot to mention that lastnight," Hockling said, disgustedly. "HereRed an' me have been pattin' ourselves onthe back for runnin' a blazer on the law.An' now, come to find out, them deputieswas in the wrong, an' so we only give 'emwhat was comin' to 'em, anyway."

"Well, you've got a nerve, you have!"exclaimed the indignant Loudon. "Do yuhthink I'm goin' round dodgin' warrants soyou two jiggers can run blazers on thesheriff?"

He made a swift movement.

"Leggo my legs!" yelled Hockling. "I goton my new pants, an' I don't want the seattore out! Hey, yuh idjit! Leggo!"

When order was restored and Hocklingwas tenderly feeling his precious trousers,Loudon suggested that Red, the lightestman, take Marvin's fresh pony and ride tothe line-camp for food and two horses.

"Yuh'll have yore work cut out," said

Red as he mounted, "to ride them poniesbareback. We ain't even got a extrabridle."

"Don't worry none," Loudon said. "We'llmake bridles an' Injun surcingles out o'Marvin's rope, an' we'll toss for hissaddle."

"How you feel, Tom?" inquiredLaguerre, stretched at ease on a cot in theCross-in-a-box ranch house.

"Whittled to the chin," replied Loudon."Which that pony's ridgepole could giveodds to a knife-blade on bein' sharp. Wemight 'a' knowed Marvin would win the

toss. His own saddle, too."

"Eet ees de las' piece o' luck she weelhave for varree long tam."

"I ain't so shore about that. There's noreal evidence to show that Marvin's arustler. 'Ceptin' Rudd, yuh can't connectany of the 88 outfit with the hoss stealin'. Iknow they done it. I always knowed SamBlakely was at the bottom of it, an' I can'tprove it yet. Here's you an' I rode fromhell to breakfast an' back, an' all we've gotto show for it is Archer an' the Maxsonboys—an' the hosses, o' course. Unless Ifind out somethin' more soon an' sudden,I've got to take off Marvin's hobbles. Mybluff about Bill Archer's blabbin' ain'tworkin' with Marvin. He's worried, an' he

shows it, but he's standin' pat. I spent asolid hour with him to-night, an' all hedoes is cuss an' beef about what'll happenwhen Blakely finds out his range-boss hasbeen kidnapped. It makes me sick!"

Laguerre nodded sympathetically.

"Yuh can't tell me," continued Loudon,"that them Marysville sports was the onlyones in the hoss-stealin' deal. If they was,then why was Pete O'Leary expectin' SamBlakely the day I struck the Bend, an' whywas Rufe Cutting planted in the cook's jobat the Flyin' M? It all points—so far. An'the rustlin' o' the Bar S an' Cross-in-a-boxcattle—there's another mystery. Oh, it's agreat life, this here detective business!"

"Tell you w'at, Tom," Laguerresuggested, hopefully, "you un me, huh, weweel bushwhack dees Blak'lee feller. W'atyou say?"

"Can't be did, Telescope. We've got toget him the right way, so the folks o'Sunset an' Fort Creek'll know just why hewent. That goes for his outfit an' Block an'his deputies, too. They're all in it up totheir belts. They've made Fort CreekCounty what it is—a place where astraight gent has to watch himself an'what's around him all the time. ShortySimms killed the Sheriff o' Sunset, butBlakely an' the 88 made the killin'possible. Oh, what's the use? I'm goin' tosleep."

But Loudon did not go to sleep at once.He had too much on his mind. FromBlakely and the 88 his perplexed thoughtsshifted to Kate Saltoun and the sinful easewith which she had made a fool of him; hehad trusted her, and she had betrayed him.The daughter of a ranchman, she hadflouted the law of the range. Given thethief money, too. It was almost incredible.

Idiot that he was, to believe for aninstant that she loved him! Knowing her ofold, it served him right, he told himself.He thanked Heaven that he did not loveher, had not loved her since that day in theBar S kitchen.

Quite naturally then, since he was soabsolutely sure of himself and his

emotions, he wondered how Rudd had hadthe luck to save Kate's life. He wished thatit had been himself, in order that he mighthave made some small return for servicesrendered.

She had done a great deal for him at theBend. She had simplified a most complexsituation by bringing to his assistanceHockling and Red Kane. He undoubtedlyowed a lot to Kate. Nevertheless, heassured himself that her conduct in thematter of Rudd's escape had squared theaccount. Of course it had. And he wasglad of it. For, under the circumstances, hewould never have to see her again. TheSpinning Sister heard, and smiled—andLoudon fell asleep.

"Hey, Tom! Wake up!"

It was Jack Richie's voice that shouted,and it was Jack Richie's hand that shookLoudon awake.

"Whatsa matter?" Loudon opened sleepyeyes.

"Yore hoss is outside. Yore hoss,Ranger, an'——"

Jack Richie was almost overset by theblanket-shedding cyclone that whirled outof bed and through the doorway. In frontof the ranch house stood Ranger,surrounded by Richie's amazed andconjecturing cowboys. The horse raisedhis wise head, cocked his ears, and

nickered softly at Loudon's approach.

"It's him," grinned Loudon. "It's the littlehoss. Well, fellah, you old tiger-eye!"

He rubbed the white spot on Ranger'snose. The horse nipped his fingers withsoft lips.

"Found him tied to the post out back o'the wagon shed," volunteered the cook. "Ithought I was seein' things."

"Funny he didn't whinner," said Loudon.

"There was a flour-sack over his head,"explained the cook. "Here it is."

"That don't tell me nothin'," Loudon said."Everybody uses Triple X. An' that

hackamore could be just anybody's, too.Whoever brought him shore walked in thewater."

"It ain't likely possible now," observedJack Richie, "that Rufe Cutting could 'a'got religion or somethin'."

"It's possible, but it ain't likely," saidLoudon. "Well, fellah, c'mon an' get yuh adrink, an' then for the big feed. Yo're goneoff a good forty pounds since yuh quitme."

Later, Loudon, in company withLaguerre, visited the post where Rangerhad been tied. Laguerre closelyscrutinized the ground in the vicinity.

"Hoss she been tied up six-seven hour,"observed Laguerre.

"It's 'bout half-past five now. That makesit ten or eleven when he was brought in."

"'Bout dat. Feller lead heem een. Hard toread de sign on de grass, but eet look lakde feller not walk good een hees boot—dey too beeg, mabbeso. Come 'long. Weweel see w'ere feller she leave heeshoss."

They followed the trail a hundred yards,and then Laguerre knelt down, his eyessearching the grass. He picked up a smallstone and held it up. The stone was sharp-cornered. It was stained a dark red.

"Feller she treep un fall on hees han's unknees," explained Laguerre. "Lef han' heetde leetle rock, un geet cut some. Han'bleed on eet."

Laguerre rose, tossed away the stone,and proceeded to follow the trail. He ledthe way to a tall pine some three hundredyards distant from the ranch house. EvenLoudon's unpractised eyes told him that ahorse had stood beneath the pine.

"Here feller she climb een de saddle ungo 'way," said Laguerre. "No use followde trail any more."

They returned to the ranch house,Loudon wondering greatly as to theidentity of the mysterious philanthropist.

In Cow Land a stolen horse is not returnedexcept under compulsion. While they wereat dinner the cook stuck his head throughthe doorway.

"Bunch o' riders a-comin' from thenorth," he announced, "an' they're a-comin'some swift."

"Scotty!" exclaimed Loudon, and ran tothe window.

"It may be the sheriff," said Jack Richie,hastening to provide himself with aWinchester.

"It's Scotty," Loudon said. "I can tell hima mile off. He's wearin' the same shirt, redsleeve an' all."

The horsemen, some thirty men, rode upat an easy lope. Besides Scotty, Loudonrecognized Doubleday, Johnny Ramsay,Chuck Morgan, Swing Tunstall, GiantMorton, Ragsdale, and many others.

"He's brought the whole ranch an' halfthe Bend," chuckled Loudon, and thenswore gently, because he suddenlyremembered that there was no evidenceagainst Blakely.

With thirty men the 88 could be shownthe error of its ways most effectually. Andnow the thirty could not be used. What awaste of good material!

The band of horsemen, bawlinggreetings to the group in the doorway,

jingled to a halt. Loudon stepped forwardand shook Scotty's proffered hand.

"Yuh've sure done fine," said Scotty."Yuh've filled out just what I said 'boutopportunity with a big O. I ain't forgettin'it, neither. Besides Rudd now, did yuh runacross anythin' touchin' Sam Blakely?"

"Not a thing," Loudon replied, "an it's nouse a-goin' out to the 88 lookin' for Rudd.He's sloped. My fault he got away, too."

"That's tough, but it don't matter a heap.Yuh found the hosses an' three o' thethieves, anyway."

"Yeah, but they ain't enough. We'd oughtto get 'em all, an' as far's I can see there

ain't no chance o' gettin' 'em all."

"Don't yuh care. What yuh've done suitsme. I'm satisfied."

"I ain't," said Loudon, "but I s'pose I'vegot to be. It makes me sick! Lot o' workgone for nothin'. We grabbed the 88 range-boss on the off-chance he'd chatter, but hewon't say a word. He's tied up in JackRichie's storeroom right now."

"Blakely's range-boss, huh? Well, yuhcan't hang him without proof, Tom."

"I know that. Got to turn him loose, o'course. Did yuh see anythin' o' Block orBlakely or that gang when yuh comethrough Farewell?"

"We didn't strike Farewell. We rodehere the shortest way. Why—what's thematter?"

For Loudon had ripped out an amazedoath.

"Yore rope!" exclaimed Loudon. "Wheredid yuh get that rope?"

"Oh, Doubleday found it down by thelittle corral the mornin' after him an' theboys rode in from the Bend—after themhosses was stole."

"Why didn't yuh tell me about it then?That rope was all I needed. Say, Johnny,djever see this rope before?"

Loudon held up the end of the rope. The

holdfast was missing, and the end hadbeen lapped with many turns of whip-cord. Johnny squinted at the rope's end.Jack Richie and the others crowded in.

"Yeah," said Johnny Ramsay, "now Ithink of it, you an' me was in Mike Flynn'sstore in Farewell when Sam Blakelybought him that rope with the whip-cordon the end. That was the day you bought agreen necktie. Shore, I remember. Blakelyhe asked Mike what that whip-cord was,an' Mike called it whippin'."

"That's what he did," declared Loudon."I noticed this whippin' jigger special, an'I can swear to it on a stack o' Bibles amile high. It's the same rope all rightenough."

Scotty observed that he would beconsigned to everlasting damnation.Ropes, he had supposed, were all alike.

"I knowed that rope must 'a' belonged toone o' the rustlers," said Scotty, "but itwas such a little thing that I'd forgot allabout it by the time you got back to theranch, Tom. Blakely's rope! It's shoreamazin'."

"It sort o' settles the cat-hop, don't it?"said Loudon.

"Kind o'," Scotty said, his frosty blueeyes gleaming. "We'll wander over to the88 right away. I guess now we'll leaveMarvin tied up yet awhile. We'll attend tohim later. Can yuh give us fresh hosses,

Jack?"

"Can I?" exclaimed Jack Richie. "Watchme. I guess me an' a few o' the boys willride along with yuh. Just to see fair playlike."

"Say, Scotty," Loudon said, while thefresh horses were being roped, "I hopePete O'Leary didn't see you an' the bunchleavin' the Bend."

"He didn't," replied Scotty. "O'Learyain't with us no more—No, not that way.He's alive yet so far as I know. But hepulled his freight some sudden 'bout twoweeks ago. Dunno why."

"Maybe we'll see his smilin' face again

pretty soon," Loudon observed,significantly.

"Then here's hopin' it'll be in badcompany," said Scotty Mackenzie.

An hour later the band, now numberingforty-two men, started for the 88 ranch.They rode northwest, intending to passthrough Farewell, for it was quitepossible that Brown Jug and the gray hadbeen taken into town.

As they neared the town a rattle of shotscame down the wind. With one accord theforty-two drove the spurs into theirmounts.

At the top of the slight rise above the

little town they halted. The windows ofBill Lainey's hotel and Piney Jackson'sblacksmith shop were banked in driftingsmoke through which red tongues of flameflashed at intervals. From the cover ofboulders, wagon-bodies, the hotel corral,and the Happy Heart Saloon, rule-workingcitizens were pouring lead into the twoplaces. Farther up the street severalWinchesters in the Blue Pigeon Storewere replying to the fire from the oppositehouses and from a barn in the rear of thestore.

"Sheriff Block an' his outfit are lockin'horns with some friends o' mine, I guess,"observed Loudon.

"That ain't no way for a sheriff to act,"

said Scotty. "Let's go down an' tell him so.Friends o' Tom's, boys."

Loudon was already galloping down theslope. In his wake scattered hoof-beatsbecame a thuttering drum. Men whoopingand yelling, wild-eyed horses strainingevery muscle, the charge swept downupon the besiegers of Lainey's Hotel andJackson's blacksmith shop.

The sheriff's friends broke like a coveyof quail. The rifles in the hotel andblacksmith shop chattered like mad.Loudon headed toward the hotel corral towhose shelter two men had retreated. Butthere was no one there when he reached it.

He rode past the corral and galloped

along the rear of the buildings fronting onthe street. Twice he was shot at, one bulletnicking his horse's hip. But he contrived toreach the other end of the townunwounded, raced across the street, anddismounted behind the sheriff's corral. Hisfeet had barely touched the ground whenJohnny Ramsay, Laguerre, and ChuckMorgan joined him.

"Yuh idjit!" cried Johnny. "Don't yuhknow no better'n that? Don't yuh supposethey can hit yuh at twenty yards? Yuhwasn't that far away from the backs ofthem houses. Ain't yuh got no sense atall?"

"Well, they didn't hit me, an' I noticethree other idjits didn't have no better

sense. Duck!"

Loudon jerked Johnny down just as abullet gashed the side of a post above hishead. Johnny ceased talking and ranhurriedly to where Chuck Morgan waskneeling behind a corner of the corral.Loudon joined Laguerre at the othercorner.

The four were in an excellent position.The corral commanded the rear and oneside of the sheriff's shack, the rear of theHappy Heart Saloon, and one side of thebarn in the rear of the Blue Pigeon Store.

A man ran out of the barn. Laguerre'srifle cracked. The man stumbled, dropped,dragged himself to his hands and knees,

and then huddled down slackly. Laguerrepumped in another cartridge. The staccatodin at the other end of town wasincreasing. The heavy roars of severalbuffalo guns punctuated the steadycrackling of the Winchesters' whip-likereports. Loudon smiled a slow smile andcuddled his rifle-butt against his shoulder.The world was coming his way at last.

"That sheriff wouldn't 'a' built his corralso solid," observed Loudon, "if he'dlooked ahead."

"You bet he wouldn'," said Laguerre."Dees log ees fine. No bullet come troodem. Bimeby we geet Meestair Block,mebbeso."

"He may be down in the Happy Heart.There ain't been a shot from the shack yet.He's in town all right though. His hoss andseven others are in the corral"—Loudonpeered through a crack in the logs—"Ican't see the brands. They're turned thewrong way."

"Dere ees a lot o' pony een dat corraldown dere," said Laguerre.

"That's behind the Happy Heart Saloon.Lord help 'em if they try to slide out on'em."

Zing-g-g! A bullet ricochetted from anear-by boulder and hummed aboveLoudon's hat.

"That came from the barn," said Loudon,firing at a gray smoke-cloud high up on theside of the structure. "They've knocked ahole in a board, I guess. Yep"—as thethinning smoke revealed a black opening—"they have."

Shooting carefully and without haste,Loudon and Laguerre rendered firing fromthat hole in the barn a case of suicide.From their corner Johnny Ramsay andChuck Morgan alternately drove questingbullets into the barn and the rear of theHappy Heart Saloon.

The firing from the barn slackened. Thatfrom the Happy Heart redoubled invigour. The glass window-sashes began tofall in tinkling rain on the ground.

"The boys must 'a' gotten into the housesacross the street," said Loudon. "They'rea-firin' right through the saloon."

"She weel be dark een two hour,"Laguerre remarked, irrelevantly.

"I know it. We'll have to finish up beforethen or they'll getaway. Plug any, Johnny?"

"One," was the laconic reply of thatexpert with a rifle.

"He didn't, neither!" denied ChuckMorgan. "I got him. Johnny was loadin' hisrifle at the time the feller cashed. Johnnycouldn't hit a flock o' barn doors flyin' low—not with his rifle."

"Oh, couldn't I, huh?" yapped Johnny

Ramsay. "Well, if I hadn't 'a' got him you'dbe a-lyin' there right quiet an' peacefulwith yore hat over yore face. I hit what Iaim at. I ain't been shootin' holes in boardslike some people."

At this juncture the door of the HappyHeart opened a crack, and Johnny andChuck forgot their argument at once. Thedoor closed abruptly, the wood near theknob gashed and scarred by severalbullets.

"This is gettin' monotonous," saidLoudon. "I thought there'd be action thisside an' there ain't a bit. The barn has goneto sleep. I'm goin' into the sheriff's shack.I'll bet it's empty."

"Dey geet you from the barn, mabbeso,"Laguerre suggested.

"No, they won't—not if yuh keep 'emaway from that hole."

Loudon laid his rifle down, pulled hishat firmly over his ears, and raced towardthe shack, jerking out his revolvers as heran. He reached the door of the shackwithout a shot having been fired at him.

Fully aware that death might be awaitinghis entry, he drove his shoulder against thedoor and burst it open. He sprang acrossthe doorsill and halted, balancing on theballs of his feet.

Save for the loud ticking of an alarm

clock there was no sound in the shack. Thedoor of the front room stood open.Through the doorway Loudon glimpsed abroken chair, and beside it, where thefloor sagged, a pool of blood. Loudonwalked into the front room.

His eyes beheld a scene of the wildestdisorder. There had been a fierce fight inthat front room. On his back on the floor,his legs under the table, lay Sheriff Block,his black beard reddened with blood froma wound in the cheek. One hand grippedthe butt of a six-shooter and the otherclutched the breast of his flannel shirt.There were two bullet-holes in thesheriff's chest.

Across the base of the closed front door

lay the body of Rufe Cutting. He had beenliterally cut to pieces. Only his face wasunmarked. Otherwise he was a ghastlyobject. From beneath his body oozyrunlets of blood had centred in the poolbeside the chair.

Propped up against the side wall, hislegs outstretched, sat a stranger. Bloodspotted and stained the floor about him.He had been shot in the legs and the chest.Across his knees lay a Winchester. Besidehim a long knife, red from hilt to point,was stuck upright in the floor. Thestranger's chin was on his breast, a bloodyfroth flecked his lips. So positive wasLoudon that the stranger was dead, that,when the man jerked his head upright, hejumped a full yard backward. Weakly the

wounded man plucked at his Winchester,his dull eyes fixed on Loudon. The latterran to his side.

"It's all right, stranger," cried Loudon,"I'm a friend."

At this assurance the stranger ceased inhis effort to raise his rifle.

"Water," he muttered, faintly, "water."

In a corner stood a bucket and a tindipper. Loudon scooped up a dipperfuland held it to the man's lips. He drankchokingly, and half the water spilled outon his shirt.

"Stranger," muttered the wounded man,"I'm goin' away from here in a hurry. Pull

off my boots, will yuh?"

Loudon complied with the request. Theremoval of the boots must have cruellyhurt the wounded legs, but the man did noteven groan.

"That's better," muttered the man, whenthe boots were off. "I was hopin' Iwouldn't have to cash with 'em on. Who'syore friend?"

Loudon whirled, for his nerves were onedge, and Laguerre, who had enteredwithout a sound, only saved himself fromdeath by a cat-like leap to one side. As itwas, Loudon's bullet missed him by theveriest fraction of an inch. Loudonshamefacedly holstered his weapon.

"My fault," said Laguerre, calmly. "Nex'time eet ees bes' I speak firs', yes. Whoees de man?"

"I dunno. Who are yuh, stranger?"

"Did yuh kill him?" queried the stranger,his eyes beginning to film over.

"No, he's a friend, too. Can't yuh tellyore name?"

"I'm Tom Hallaway," was the thicklyuttered response. "Rufe Cutting killed mybrother Jim an' stole his pinto hoss. Blockwas with Cutting, an' helped him. I got 'emboth. I said I'd cut Rufe's heart out—an' Isure—done it. Gimme a—drink."

But before the water came Tom

Hallaway's head fell forward, and hedied.

"Look here," said Laguerre, who hadlooked out of the window opposite TomHallaway.

Loudon went to the window. Beneath ittwo dead men were sprawled. Theirstiffened fingers clutched six-shooters.

"They drilled him through the window,"said Loudon, "an' he got 'em both."

Laguerre nodded solemnly.

"Brave man, dat Tom Hallaway," saidTelescope Laguerre.

CHAPTER XXIV

BEFORE THE DAWN

The window through which TomHallaway had been shot faced the opencountry. The other two windows in theroom flanked the front door. Thethoughtful Laguerre had brought Loudon'srifle in with him, and the two men squatteddown behind the windows. Their view ofMain Street was excellent. They could seealmost the whole width of the street fromone end of the town to the other.

Far down the street the windows ofLainey's Hotel were smoking like thegunports of an old-time line-o'-battle-ship.The men in the hotel seemed to bedevoting all their attention to the HappyHeart and the houses between it and PineyJackson's blacksmith shop.

Directly opposite the Happy Heart was asmall store from which three or four menwere directing a heavy fire at the saloon.Next to the store were four empty corrals,and then came some twenty houses, thetwentieth opposite the sheriff's shack. Ofthese houses all save the three nearest thecorrals were silent. The folk in these threewere carrying on a duel: with thedefenders of the Blue Pigeon Store, whosefire had slackened somewhat.

"I hope they haven't got Mike," saidLoudon, and drove a bullet close above awindow-sill of the middle house of thethree. "He's a good fellah." Another bulletnicked the window-sill. "This can't go onforever." Again a bullet shaved thewindow-sill. "Somethin's going' to popsome soon."

Something did pop. The firing from theHappy Heart culminated in a terrificvolley, and then ceased abruptly.

"That's funny," commented Loudon. "Itcan't—— They're sliding out!"

Which latter remark was called forth bya sudden outburst of firing from the corralwhere Johnny and Chuck were stationed.

Loudon and Laguerre ran out the backway. The former's surmise was correct.

The Happy Heart defenders had brokencover and reached the big corral behindthe saloon. Four of them were down infront of the corral gate. They would neverpull trigger again. But the others, innumber a score or more, had reached theirhorses and were pouring out of the gate inthe far side of the corral.

Loudon perceived that the two riders inthe lead were mounted on Brown Jug andthe gray. These two kept together. Theremaining fugitives wisely fled separatelyand in many directions.

Loudon and Laguerre did not fire. The

range was a long six hundred yards; toolong for accurate shooting when the targetis astride a racing horse. Imbued with thesame idea they ran to their horses, flippedthe reins over their heads, and jammedtheir Winchesters into the scabbards. Bothponies were galloping at full speed whenthe two were settled in their saddles.

"We can not catch dem!" cried Laguerreten minutes later.

"We'll try, anyhow," replied Loudon,standing up in the stirrups to ease hishorse, and wishing that he had riddenRanger.

Half an hour later it became obvious thatpursuit was useless. Brown Jug and the

gray had the legs of the pursuer's horses.The sun was setting, too. Loudon andLaguerre pulled in their panting mounts.

"Here comes Johnny an' Chuck," saidLoudon.

"Could yuh tell who they was?"demanded Johnny, breathlessly.

"They kept their backs to us," Loudonreplied, drily, "an' they didn't leave anycards."

"Ain't got no manners at all," saidJohnny Ramsay. "They're headin'northwest, an' they shore ought to getthere. C'mon back, I'm dry."

"They was seven 88 ponies in Block's

corral," said Chuck Morgan. "Let's hurry.Maybe we can get the owners yet."

"If they ain't already been got," saidJohnny Ramsay.

"Seven 88 ponies," repeated Loudon. "Iseen 'em in the corral, but I couldn't seethe brand. Seven. That means seven o' theoutfit was in Farewell, an' more'n seven,maybe. I don't believe Blakely was there.He's been mighty cautious lately. Well,anyhow, countin' seven at Farewell,there'd ought to be eight more at the fourline-camps. Rudd's quit, an' Marvin ishogtied, an' Shorty Simms is dead.Accordin' to my figurin', that makeseighteen."

"Yo're well educated, Mr. Loudon," saidJohnny Ramsay.

"Correct. Well, then, unless Blakely hashired a bunch o' new men, which ain'tlikely, then eighteen from twenty-fiveleaves seven."

"First class in 'rithmetic will take thefront seats," remarked Chuck, solemnly."The little boys mustn't sit with the littlegirls. Attention, children, an' I'll interduceour new teacher, Mr. Thomas Loudon, awell-known—— Hi! you leave my cayusealone, Tom! I'm the only gent he allows tospur him. Damitall, he's goin' to buck, an'I'm all het up, anyhow. Oh, ——! Iknowed it!"

"Chuck ought to ride pitchers for alivin'," commented Loudon. "Ain't hegraceful? Go yuh ten, Telescope, he pullsleather."

Chuck returned to them ten minutes later.He sidled his now thoroughly chastenedpony in between Ramsay and Laguerre.

"I'll have nothin' more to do with thatlong-legged feller on the left o' the line,"Chuck announced to the world at large."He'd just as soon break a friend's neck asnot. He ain't got no feelin's whatever.'Rithmetic's done locoed him."

"As I was sayin' before I wasinterrupted," said Loudon, grinning,"eighteen from twenty-five leaves seven.

There oughtn't to be more'n seven men atthe 88 ranch house an' they won't beexpectin' callers. There's four of us.What's the answer?"

"Dat ees fine," Laguerre said. "We weelgeet dere before Scotty un de odderscome. I say we go."

"Me, too," said Johnny Ramsay.

"But no more 'rithmetic!" Chuck Morgancried in mock alarm. "It shore makes myhead ache, 'rithmetic does."

They swung away from Farewell andentered a long draw, dark with the purpleshadows of the twilight.

"Wasn't there nobody at all in Block's

shack?" queried Johnny Ramsay, rolling acigarette one-handed.

"Three," replied Loudon.

"Huh!" Johnny Ramsay was startled.

"Two was dead an' the third was dyin',"explained Loudon. "He cashed before wecome out. His name was Tom Hallaway.You remember about Cutting stealin' myhoss. Well, him an' Block turned up inRocket, an' Cutting was ridin' a blaze-facepinto. Come to find out, the pinto belongedto a fellah named Jim Hallaway, an' Jimwas found murdered. The way I figure it:Cutting knowed better'n to ride in on myhoss, so he killed Jim an' took his pony,leavin' my hoss back in the hills some'ers.

Later he went back after Ranger, an'sloped with the pair.

"This Tom Hallaway was Jim's brother.The two dead men in the shack was thesheriff an' Cutting. Yeah, Rufe Cutting. It'dbeen better for him if he'd gone south likethe sheriff said he did. Rufe was carvedup tremendous, an' Block had beenplugged three times. Hallaway got 'emboth. Two o' the Farewell boys got himthough—through the window. But theydidn't live long enough to tell about it. Hegot them plumb centre. Yep, four wasHallaway's tally. He shore paid 'em in fullfor killin' Jim."

"Which I should say as much," murmuredChuck Morgan, admiringly. "He was some

man!"

"An' he had to die," said Loudon. "Allon account o' them measly skunks. Well,by the time Scotty an' that crowd getthrough with Farewell a Sunday-schoolwon't be in it with the town."

"Yo're whistlin'," said Johnny Ramsay.

The four pushed their mounts almost tothe limit of their strength. At three in themorning they dismounted in a grove ofsinging pines. The 88 ranch buildingswere a bare quarter-mile distant.

They tied their horses and went forwardon foot. Their plan was to enter the ranchhouse and take Blakely prisoner while he

slept. It was a sufficiently foolhardyproceeding, for Blakely was known to bea light sleeper. And there might be morethan seven men in the bunkhouse. If thescheme miscarried, and Blakely shouldgive the alarm—— But the four menwasted little thought on that contingency.

Silently they approached the dark blotsthat were the ranch buildings. Foot by footthey edged along between the two corrals.

At the blacksmith shop they halted. Tothe right, and fifty or sixty yards away,was the bunkhouse. In front of themstretched the square shape of the ranchhouse. Loudon sat down and pulled off hisboots. The others followed his example.

"I'm goin' down to the bunkhouse first,"Loudon whispered. "I can tell by thesnores, maybe, how many we've got tocount in."

Loudon slid silently toward thebunkhouse. In ten minutes he was back.

"Not a snore," he whispered. "I listenedat each window. There ain't a sound inthat bunkhouse. If the boys are gone, thenBlakely's gone. There's only one windowopen in the ranch house. I didn't hearnothin' there, either."

Leaving Johnny on guard at the backdoor, Loudon and the others tiptoedaround the ranch house. They leaned theirrifles against the wall beside the door and

Loudon laid his hand on the latch. Slowlyhe lifted the latch and slowly, veryslowly, so that it would not creak, hepushed the door open. Once inside theyhalted, nerves a-stretch, and ears strainingto catch the slightest sound. But there wasno sound.

Loudon knew that there were threerooms, an office, and a wide hall in theranch house, but where Blakely was in thehabit of sleeping he did not know. WhileLaguerre and Chuck Morgan remained inthe hall, Loudon felt his way from room toroom.

Still hearing no sound he grew bolderand struck a match. He found himself inthe office. In company with the others he

visited every room in turn. Each wasempty. In one room the flickeringmatchlight revealed a bed. The blanketswere tumbled. An alarm clock hanging ona nail above the bed had stopped at half-past two.

"Blakely left yesterday, all right," saidLoudon. "It takes a day an' a half for themclocks to run down. Guess he must 'a' beenat Farewell after all."

"Maybe some o'the boys got him," Chucksaid, hopefully.

"No such luck."

The match went out, and Loudonscratched another, intending to light a

lamp.

"Put out that light!" came in a hoarsewhisper from the back door. "Somebody'sa-comin'."

Loudon crushed the match between hisfingers and hurried to the back door.Laguerre and Chuck crowded against him.

"Listen!" commanded Johnny Ramsay.

"Sounds like two horses," said Loudon.

"Comin' the way we come," growledLoudon.

The hoof-beats, at first a mere ripple ofdistant sound, grew louder rapidly.

"If they're comin' here, they'll come inthe ranch house, shore," said Loudon."They're only two, so they must be acouple o' the 88. We'll take 'em alive.Telescope, you an' Chuck take this door,an' Johnny an' I'll take the front. If theycome yore way bend yore guns over theirheads. Don't shoot till yuh know who theyare for shore. It's just possible they maybe friends."

Loudon and Johnny Ramsay ran throughthe hall, brought in the rifles, and closedthe front door. Side by side they waited.The door was poorly hung. Through thecracks they could hear quite plainly thedrum of the galloping horses' feet.Suddenly a horse neighed shrilly.

"Our hosses in the grove!" breathedLoudon. "I forgot 'em, an'——"

But the approaching horsemen did nothalt. As they came closer Loudon heardone call to the other and the latter make areply, but the words were unintelligible.They were still talking when they pulledup in front of the ranch-house door.

"I tell yuh I don't like that whinnerin'!"one man was insisting, angrily. "Maybe,now——"

"Gittin' scared, huh!" sneered the other."It's just some o' our hosses strayed. Theyoften go over in that bunch o' pines. Youtake the hosses down to the corral, Pete,an' change the saddles, an' I'll rustle us

some grub an' the cartridges. Skip now!"

The speaker lifted the door latch. Thedoor crashed open. A boot scuffed thedoorsill. The heavy barrel of Loudon'ssix-shooter smashed down across hat andhair with a crunch.

Even as the man dropped, Loudon,taking no chances, flung his arms aroundthe falling body and went down with it.Johnny Ramsay, drawing his ownconclusions as to the friendliness of theman with the horses, sprang through thedoorway, his six-shooter spitting. In mid-leap he checked and fell flat, his six-shooter flying from his hand. He was up inan instant and feeling about for his gun.Panting and swearing, for in his ears was

the tuckle-tuck-tuckle-tuck of a furiouslyridden horse, he found his six-shooter atlast.

"Deed you heet heem?" called Laguerrefrom the doorway.

"I did not," replied Johnny. "Leastwisehe didn't wait to tell me. If I hadn't trippedover somebody's feet an' lost my gun in theshuffle, I'd have got him all right. Hewasn't five yards away. By the time I gothold o' the gun he was over the hills an'far away, so far as hittin' him wasconcerned. He left the other sport's hoss,though."

Johnny went up to the horse, a big light-coloured animal, and flung its dragging

rein over a post near the door. The horsestood quietly, legs spread, breathingheavily.

"Hey!" bawled Loudon. "Somebodygimme a match! I can't find mine, an' Iwant to look at Blakely!"

"So eet ees Blakely," said Laguerre. "Ideed not know."

"Shore," Loudon said, "I knowed bothvoices instanter. The other party was thatParadise Bender named Pete O'Leary.Ain't anybody got a match?"

Johnny Ramsay pulled a match out of hishat-band and scratched it. He held theflame above the face of the unconscious

man on the floor.

"It's Blakely. No mistake about that,"said Loudon in a tone of great satisfaction.

A guttural exclamation from Laguerredrew Loudon's eyes to the half-breed.Laguerre was bending forward, his eyesfixed in a terrible glare on the face ofBlakely. Laguerre's lips writhed open. Histeeth were bared to the gum. Hiscountenance was a mask of relentless hate.

"Pony George!" almost whisperedLaguerre. "At las'!"

The match went out.

"Gimme them matches!" exclaimedLoudon, harshly.

He went into the office, found a lampand lit it. He carried it into the hall andplaced it on a chair. Laguerre had squatteddown on his heels. His eyes, now mereslits, were still fixed on Blakely. JohnnyRamsay and Chuck Morgan covertlywatched Laguerre. They did notunderstand. Laguerre's head pivotedsuddenly.

"Dat man ees mine," he said, staring atLoudon.

"Of course. Yuh don't need to say nothin'more, Telescope."

"I weel tell why. Dese odders mus'know. My frien's," the swarthy face withthe terrible eyes turned toward Chuck and

Johnny, "my frien's, long tam ago, ovaireas' on de Sweetwatair, I know dees man.She was not call Blakely den. Hees namewas Taylor—Pony George, dey call heem.Pony George she keel my wife, my leetleMarie. Feefteen year I have hunt PonyGeorge. Now I have foun' heem. Un I weelkeel heem, me."

Johnny and Chuck nodded gravely. Theprimitive code of the broken lands isbluntly simple. Vengeance was Laguerre's.

CHAPTER XXV

TRAIL'S END

"Shoot me! Hang me! I don't care. Onlydon't turn me over to that devil there. He'lltorture me! For God's sake, don't do it! I'llconfess! I'll tell yuh all I ever done. I an'my outfit's been rustling them cows fromthe Bar S an' the Cross-in-a-box. We'vedone it for years!

"We used to hold the cows in a blindcañon south o' Smoky Peak till the brandshealed. There's more'n a hundred cowsthere now! They're Hawg Pen an' Cross-in-a-box an' Bar S cows! An' we rustledScotty Mackenzie's hosses while SkinnyMaxson o' Marysville toled yuh away upto Hatchet Creek, an' 'twas me shot Scotty.I'd 'a' done for him only I thought he was

dead. An' I sent Rufe Cutting to the FlyingM so he could help us when the timecome! Pete O'Leary the same way! Hewas with me to-night. Djuh get him?"

"No, we didn't," replied Loudon. "It's nouse a-takin' on thisaway. We trailed thehosses to Piegan City, an' Archer an' theMaxson boys are under arrest. Yuh seehow it is. We know all about you an' yoregang. We can't do nothin' for yuh."

"But yuh don't know all I done myself!"Blakely pursued, wildly. "I tell yuh, I'dought to be hung! I'd ought to be hung tentimes over. It was me shot Johnny Ramsaythat time he found the dead Bar S cow an'her calf on our range. An' I tried to getyou, Loudon, when yuh was snuffin' 'round

that ledge on Pack-saddle where we usedto throw the cows across. An' I thought upthat scheme for makin' yuh out a rustlerwith them Crossed Dumbbell cows. I doneit, I tell yuh! Can't yuh understand? Hangme! Oh, please hang me, gents!"

Blakely, fairly gibbering with fear,crawled on his knees toward Loudon.Blakely's hands were bound behind hisback. The drying blood from the scalpwound, inflicted by the barrel of Loudon'ssix-shooter, had stiffened his black hairinto upstanding matted masses. He was awretched spectacle.

"Loudon! Loudon!" shrinked Blakely. "Itwas me swore out that warrant for yuh forstealin' the chestnut I sold yuh. I sent the

sheriff up the Bend after yuh, an' I'd 'a'hanged yuu sure as —— if I'd ever laidhands on yuh. Now hang me! Hang mequick, an' get it over with!"

"Telescope!" exclaimed Loudon, "Iguess we'll go down to the corrals."

When Blakely perceived that there wasno hope for him, that his was to be no easydeath, he went frantic. Hysteria seizedhim. He sobbed, laughed, and uttered themost blood-chilling screams, his bodythrashing about like a shark in its death-throes.

Laguerre, sitting cross-legged on thefloor, had been whetting his skinning-knifeon his boot-leg for the past half-hour.

Now he held up the knife and thumbed thebroad blade.

Loudon and the others, their eyeslowered, passed out of the ranch houseinto the pale light of dawn. The morningstar blazed diamond-bright above thelemon-yellow splendour in the east. Alittle wind blew past their faces. The airwas fresh with the promise of the newday. They drew long, grateful breaths andlooked from under their eyebrows at eachother.

"I feel sick," Johnny Ramsay said,frankly.

The horse which Johnny had tied to thepost had been lying down. It rose with a

heave and a plunge and stood blowing andcracking its nostrils.

"Well, if there ain't Telescope's gray,"announced Loudon. "So the fellahs wechased out o' Farewell was Blakely an'O'Leary after all. They shore picked thebest hosses in the corral when they tookBrown Jug an' the gray. No wonder wecouldn't catch 'em."

"Yo're right," Johnny and Chuckchorused, loudly.

"Life's a funny thing," Loudon rambledon, speaking quite rapidly. "Here we runour legs off after them two fellahs, an' theyturn 'round an' come back to us all promptan' unexpected. I guess I'll water that hoss

an' take his saddle off."

He turned back. The others crawled upon the corral fence.

"Wish I'd thought o' the hoss," grumbledJohnny. "I want somethin' to do."

With shaking fingers he rolled acigarette and spilled most of the tobacco.The clamour within the ranch housesuddenly became louder.

"He shore takes it hard," muttered ChuckMorgan, repressing a shudder withdifficulty.

Loudon slid around the corner of theranch house and joined them on the toprail.

"Thought yuh was goin' to water thehoss," said Chuck.

"Telescope's goin' to use him," saidLoudon, and endeavoured to whistle "TheZebra Dun."

"I'm kind o' glad to know who did plugme that time," remarked Johnny.

"I've always knowed who done it,"Loudon said. "I dug a forty-five bullet outo' Blakely's swell-fork the day we had therun-in at the Bar S."

"Why didn't yuh tell me?" demandedJohnny.

"The bullet wasn't proof, when yuh comeright down to it. No use o' yore lockin'

horns with Blakely, anyway. It wouldn't 'a'done no good."

"Well, it don't—— Hellenblazes! Hearhim yell!"

Loudon began to swear under his breath.A door banged suddenly. Blakely's insaneshrieking abruptly stilled. Soon the threemen heard the trample of the gray's feet.Then, beyond the ranch house, appearedLaguerre. He was mounted. Facedownward across his lap lay Blakely,gagged with his own holster and silkneckerchief.

Riding at a walk, Laguerre headedtoward the grove of singing pines wherethey had left their horses. When Brown

Jug and his double burden disappearedamong the trees Loudon drew a longbreath.

"I ain't in a bit of a hurry for my hoss,"he declared.

"Which I should say not!" JohnnyRamsay exclaimed with fervour.

The sun was an hour high when Laguerreloped out of the grove. He was leadingtheir four horses. They watched him withmorbid fascination.

Laguerre rode up to the corral andhalted. The gray, hard held, shook hishead. On the right cheek-piece of thehorse's bridle a black-haired scalp

flapped soggily. And Laguerre looked upat the three men on the top rail of thecorral.

"No use hangin' round here no more,"said Loudon, slipping to the ground."Might as well mosey over to that blindcañon south of Smoky Peak an' see if themcattle really are there."

Three days later Loudon and hiscomrades, their horses drooping-headedand heavy-legged, rode into Farewell.Signs of the late skirmish were plentiful.There was not a whole pane of glass inany of the buildings which had served asforts; and doors, facades, and window

casings were pock-marked with bullet-holes.

Bill Lainey, consistent always, wasdozing under the wooden awning of hishotel. Awakened, the hotelkeepersolemnly shook hands all around, andwheezed that it was a fine day.

"Yeah," said Loudon, "the air roundthese parts does seem clearer a lot. An'there ain't so many folks on the street,either."

"There won't be for a while," declaredBill Lainey. "We buried twenty-threegents day before yesterday, hanged twelveup the road a piece, an' Scotty an' JackRichie an' that crowd rubbed out nine o'

the boys that slid out o' the Happy Heartover by Dead Horse Spring."

"How many got away?" inquired JohnnyRamsay.

"'Bout twenty—twenty-four maybe,"replied the hotel-keeper. "I dunno forshore. But anyhow the 88 outfit is shot fullo' holes. Eleven of 'em cashed here intown, an' seven was got outside o' town.The rest made it safe, I guess."

"Was they all here before the riot?"queried Loudon.

"Every last one of 'em, 'ceptin' Rudd an'Marvin. They come in a-huntin' trouble.They've been sore 'count o' Mike Flynn's

sassin' the sheriff an' darin' him an' the 88to lock horns with him. Well, there was agent in town that day, dunno who he was,but anyhow when Rufe Cutting went intothe sheriff's shack the stranger went in,too. Oh, you seen the inside o' the shack,did yuh? Well, it was what the strangerdone started things a-rollin'. Two o' thedeputies plugged him through the window,an' the rest of us wouldn't stand no suchactions as that, so we started. Good thingyou gents an' Jack Richie an' the othershappened along when yuh did."

"Any of our boys get it?"

"Long Riley an' Masters o' the Cross-in-a-box went out here in town, an' threefellers, Newhall an' Lane o' Paradise

Bend, an' Morton o' the Flyin' M, in thebattle at Dead Horse. Our tally was more.We lost seven of our best citizens. Four of'em died right here in my hotel—two inthe dinin' room, one at the door, an' one inthe kitchen. There's quite a jag o' gentsnicked an' creased, but the doc says they'llpull through all right."

"But look here, Bill, has Rufe Cuttingbeen holin' out over at the 88 right along?"

"I dunno how long he's been there, Tom,but anyway he rid in with half-a-dozen o'the 88 'bout two weeks ago, an' he waswith 'em when they all come in for theirbattle."

"Do yuh remember what Rufe rode for a

hoss the first time he come in?"

"Bald-face pinto—both times."

"I was wonderin'," Loudon said. "Yuhsee, Bill, Rufe stole my hoss, Ranger, upin Paradise Bend, an' the mornin' o' thefight here the little hoss turns up at theCross-in-a-box. It ain't none likely Rufebrought him. I'm tryin' to figger out themystery."

Bill Lainey's fat body shook withlaughter. He gripped his sides and pantedfor breath.

"That explains it," he wheezed, "It wasyore hoss that the 88 was fussin' roundafter."

"What are yuh talkin' about?" demandedLoudon.

"Why, it's thisaway, Tom. When Blakelyan' his gang come in they scampered rounda-pokin' into every corral in town. Saidone o' their hosses had been stole fivedays before, an' they was out to find thepony an' the thief. I didn't pay no attention,'cept to see they didn't take one o' myhosses by mistake. Yuh see, I allowedthey was lyin' all along an' just huntin' anyold excuse to unhook their artillery. Yorehoss! Well, if that ain't rich!"

"It must 'a' been my hoss," averredLoudon, solemnly. "I guess now Rufemight have been anxious to get him back—some."

"Yeah," cut in Johnny Ramsay, "but whostole him from the 88? Guess the mystery'sthicker'n ever, Tom."

"Looks like it," agreed Loudon. "Scottyor any of 'em in town now, Bill?"

"Scotty ain't. Him an' the Flyin' M bunchhave rode south—Damson, I heard MikeFlynn say. Jack Richie's around some'ers.Here he comes now!"

"Which I'd admire to know where youfellers went," exclaimed Jack Richie, hisexpression radiating relief. "I was bettin'yuh'd been bushwhacked, but Scotty hesaid no, yuh was more likelybushwhackin' somebody else, an' yuh'd allturn up like plugged dollars bimeby. By

the looks of that led horse Scotty had yuhsized up right. Who'd yuh gather in?"

"Blakely," Loudon replied, quietly.

At this juncture Richie perceived thescalp on the gray's bridle.

"I see," said Jack Richie. "Run acrossany one else?"

"Fellah named O'Leary—yuh don't knowhim. He got away. We was at the 88 at thetime. Before—before Blakely went heconfessed to a whole raft o' stuff. Wefollowed up part o' what he said, an' overin a blind cañon south o' Smoky Peak inthe Three Sisters we found a hundred an'twenty Bar S, Hawg Pen, an' Cross-in-a-

box cows. Some o' the brands was almosthealed up, but there was enough thatwasn't to tell where they come from.There wasn't nobody with 'em."

"Smoky Peak, huh? Hoofs shaved downor burnt, I s'pose?"

"Shore," replied Loudon. "They won't beable to travel under two weeks."

"Did yuh tell Old Salt the joyful news—about the cattle?"

"I'll send him word."

"He's down at Mike Flynn's now. Go an'make him happy. But first c'mon in an'irrigate. If we don't do it right away,Johnny'll faint. His tongue's hangin' out a

foot."

"I'll see yuh later. Guess I'd better tellOld Salt first."

Loudon did not feel particularly cheerfulas he walked down the street. His workwas done—and well done. His enemieswere either no more or journeying swiftlyelsewhere. There was peace for honestmen in Fort Creek County at last. But therewas no peace in Loudon's soul. He waslearning for the second time thatforgetfulness comes not easily.

In front of the Blue Pigeon Store abuckboard was standing. The rangyvehicle and its team of ponies struck achord in Loudon's memory. He had seen

them recently. Where? Idly speculating heentered the Blue Pigeon. Mr. Saltoun,leaning over the counter, was talking toMike Flynn.

"Ahoy, Tom!" bawled Mike Flynn,thrusting forward his immense, freckledpaw. "'Tis a sight for sore eyes yuh are.Glory be, but I thought yuh kilt!"

Mr. Saltoun's greeting was lessenthusiastic, but it was friendly. Loudonsat down on the counter and swung hisspurred heels.

"About them cattle now," he said,slowly, his eyes fixed on Mr. Saltoun'sface. "Yuh remember I told yuh the 88 wasrustlin' 'em?"

Mr. Saltoun nodded.

"I remember," he said.

"Them cows," Loudon said, distinctly,"are in a blind cañon south o' Smoky Peak,along with Hawg Pen an' Cross-in-a-boxcattle. That is, most of 'em are there. Therest yuh'll have to pick out o' the 88 herds,I guess."

Mr. Saltoun's capitulation was instantand handsome.

"You was right!" he exclaimed, warmly,holding out his hand. "You was right allalong. I shore had the 88 sized up wrong,an'"—vigorously pumping Loudon's hand—"any time yuh want a job there's one at

the Bar S for yuh. Er—my range-boss isquittin' next month. What do yuh say to hisjob?"

"Now that's right good hearin'," repliedLoudon, "but I guess I'll stick with theFlyin' M awhile. Thank yuh just as much."

"Oh, that's all right. Any time yuh feellike makin' a change, why, yuh knowwhere to come. Well, I got to be goin'.Say, Mike, don't forget to order themcollars for my buckboard harness."

"I shore won't. So long."

Loudon followed Mr. Saltoun into thestreet.

"Somethin' new, ain't it?" queried

Loudon, flicking a thumb at the buckboard.

"Yep," said Mr. Saltoun, gathering upthe reins. "Bought team an' all a month agofrom Shaner o' the Three Bars. Got 'emcheap, too. Judge Allison was after 'em,but I got 'em. Huh? What did yuh say?"

"I didn't say nothin'. Somethin' stuck inmy throat."

"Well, so long, take care o' yoreself."

Loudon stood on the sidewalk gazingafter the dwindling buckboard. Themention of Judge Allison had supplied themissing link in the chain of memory. Hehad seen that buckboard, driven by awoman, stop in front of Judge Allison's

house in Marysville, and it had beenconsiderably less than a month ago.Hence, at the time, the buckboard musthave been the property of Mr. Saltoun.And Kate was the only woman at the BarS ranch. The driver must have been KateSaltoun. Why should Kate call on JudgeAllison?

"Shershay la fam," the Judge hadremarked in explanation of his rather baldespousal of Loudon's cause. "Find thewoman." Did the Judge mean Kate, andwas it because of Kate's visit that he hadbecome Loudon's friend? It did not seempossible, yet, if Kate actually had pleadedfor him it was on a par with her actions inParadise Bend.

Loudon, pondering the matter, stoodquite still, utterly oblivious to hissurroundings. The sudden creak of wheels,a familiar tinny clatter, and a cry of"Howdy, Tom!" brought him out of hisreverie with a jerk.

He looked up. Ten feet distant, CaptainBurr, on the seat of his peddler's wagon,regarded him with kindly eyes.

"Wool-gatherin', Tom?" said the leanlittle man, waggling his white beard. "I'msurprised."

"I was just a-wonderin'," Loudon said,forcing a smile, "whether we was goin' tohave rain or not."

"I shouldn't wondeh," Captain Burrremarked, gravely staring up into thecloudless blue. "I've just come in from theBah S," he continued, abruptly. "MissKate has two right soah hands. Right soah,they ah. I sold the young lady some salve."

"Sore hands," repeated Loudon, stupidly."Why, I—I heard her thumb was torepretty bad, but—but I didn't know both of'em was hurt."

"Yes, the young lady's right thumb hasquite a gash, and the palm of her left handis cut all the way across. She cut it on arock!"

"Cut it on a rock?"

"On a rock! She was comin' out o' thehouse, she said, an' she tripped on thedoorsill an' fell. Fell pretty heavy, Herhand was sho' cut quite a lot."

"Lemme get this straight. Yuh say she cuther left hand, an' on a rock?"

"Yes, Tom," said Captain Burr, gently,"that's the how of it."

Without a word Loudon turned and fled.Five minutes later, mounted on BillLainey's toughest horse, he was gallopingout of Farewell. Two miles out he passedMr. Saltoun. The latter called to him butreceived no response save a hand-wave.

"Well," observed Mr. Saltoun, "if he's

changed his mind about that job, he's shoreactin' mighty odd."

Within two hours after leaving FarewellLoudon halted his staggering pony in frontof the Bar S ranch house. In the hammockon the porch sat Kate Saltoun. Her facewas rather white, and there were darkshadows beneath her black eyes.

Loudon sucked in his breath sharply atthe sight of the poor, bandaged hands.Kate sat motionless, her gaze level, herface without expression. Loudon felt like astranger.

"Kate," he began, "Kate——" andstopped.

"Well," said Kate at last, dropping hereyes.

Released from the spell of that chillstare, Loudon found his tongue.

"I come to have a little talk with yuh," hesaid. "Yuh see, I've been findin' out thingslately. You drove over to Marysville an'talked to Judge Allison on my account,didn't yuh?"

"Who told you?" Kate did not raise herhead.

"Nobody told me. But I ain't a fool. Iseen the Bar S buckboard in Marysville,an' a woman was drivin', an' the judgesaid, 'Shershay la fam,' meanin' 'Find the

woman.' Well, yo're the woman all right. Iknow yuh are. An' that cut left hand yuhdidn't get by trippin' over the doorsill likeyuh told Cap'n Burr. Yuh got it by fallin'on a rock back o' the Cross-in-a-box ranchhouse after yuh'd tied Ranger to the post.Yuh can't tell me different.

"Yore cut hand, an' yore knowin' that I'dbe at the Cross-in-a-box, an' the way itwas done an' all, makes it certain. Yuhgave me my hoss back. An' yuh paid Ruddto get him for yuh. Ranger was at the 88all right. An' yuh couldn't 'a' got hold o'him 'cept through somebody like Rudd. Nowonder yuh stuck by Rudd! It was the onlything yuh could do, 'specially when he'dsaved yore life, too."

"He didn't save my life. I thought if I toldyou that he had, you might let him go. Ilied. I'd have told any number of lies tosave him. He was a horse thief, and he andMarvin tried to prove you a rustler, but hetrusted me. You wouldn't take my wordwhen I asked you to, but Rudd did whenhe brought me Ranger and I didn't have thefull amount I'd promised him. I told himthat I'd bring the money three days later inthe draw where the sumac bushes grow,and he believed me and he led Ranger allthe way to that lonesome spruce grove onCow Creek where I wanted to keep thehorse till I could return him to you. Afterthat I couldn't desert Rudd. I couldn't havelived with myself if I had."

"I know. I should 'a' took yore word, but

—well, anyhow, I should 'a' took it an' letit go at that. I owe everythin' to yuh. Yuhtook care o' me in Paradise Bend. Yuhworked for me, an' it was yore doin' that,that made findin' Scotty's hosses almost acinch. Yuh went an' got Hockling an' Redwhen the deputies jumped us over nearPack-saddle.

"Yuh done it all, you did, an' I'm here totell yuh I'm a dog, an' I ain't fit to saddleyore hoss. I can't thank yuh. Thanks don'tmean nothin' 'side o' what yuh done forme. But—but how much besides the sixtydid yuh pay Rudd? I can settle that,anyhow."

"It doesn't matter in the least," said Kate,her eyes still on the floor.

"It does matter. It matters a lot. I've gotto know. I can't——"

"Listen," interrupted Kate, flinging upher head and meeting his gaze squarely,"I'm going to tell you something. Onceupon a time you told me you loved me. Itreated you very badly. Later I was sorry,and I did everything in my power to makeamends. I even told you I loved you. Iloved you with all my heart and soul andbody. I could have made you happy as noother woman on earth could have madeyou happy. Well, that's over. I've learnedmy lesson."

"Kate! Kate! I do love yuh—I do! I do!"

Loudon's hat was under his feet. His

long body was trembling.

"You do, do you?" said Kate, her voiceicy. "Then perhaps I can make you sufferas you made me suffer. I don't believe Ican, but I'll try. I don't love you! Do youunderstand? I don't love you!"

"Then—then why did yuh go to theJudge? Why did yuh get my hoss? Why——"

"Why? Because I wanted you, if such athing were possible, to go through life inmy debt. You won't forget me now. AndI'm glad—glad!"

"Then why did yuh walk in the water ifyuh wanted me to know I owed yuh so

much? Why did yuh wear boots too big foryuh to make me think it was a man broughtRanger to the Cross-in-a-box? Why didyuh go to Marysville all wrapped up, sonobody'd know yuh? What yuh say don'thang together."

"Doesn't it? I'm sorry. You'd have foundout about the Judge and Ranger before agreat while. I'd have seen to it that youdid. I merely didn't care to have you knowabout these things at the time."

"I guess I understand," Loudon muttered."I'll—I'll send yuh Ranger. Yuh've donebought him. He's yores. I'll go now."

"Oh, don't bother about Ranger——Look out!"

So engrossed had been the two thatneither had heard the gallop of anapproaching horse till it shot around thecorner of the house and was almost uponthem. As Kate shrieked her warning shesprang from the hammock and flungherself in front of Loudon. For the man onthe horse was Pete O'Leary, and he wasapparently aiming a six-shooter at Loudon.

"You —— spy!" yelled O'Leary.

Even as O'Leary's six-shooter cracked,Loudon swept Kate to one side and firedfrom the hip. O'Leary swayed, droppedhis gun, then pitched forward over hissaddle-horn. Loudon ran to him. As hereached O'Leary the latter rolled over onhis back.

"Teach her to spy on my letters!" hegasped. "If it hadn't been for her I——"

He choked and died.

Loudon thrust his sixshooter into itsholster and turned. Kate, her lipscolourless, her eyes dilated, was clingingto one of the porch uprights. Loudon

crossed the intervening space in twoleaps.

"Where yuh hit?" he cried.

"I'm not hit," she replied, shakily. "But—but did he—did you—are you hurt?"

"I ain't even creased. Now you go in thehouse an' stay. Here come Jimmie an'Rainey. We'll take care o' what's outhere."

Obediently Kate went into the house.

Half an hour later, in the living room,Loudon found her. She rose from her chairat his entrance and faced him in silence.The cold, defiant expression had vanishedfrom her face. In its stead was the look of

a frightened child. Loudon halted within ayard of her.

"Kate," said he, "yuh can say what yuhlike about yore reasons for goin' to JudgeAllison an' takin' that night ride to theCross-in-a-box, an' I've got to believe yuh.But if yuh don't love me why did yuh jumpin front o' me when O'Leary fired?"

"I thought he was going to shoot you,"she replied, forcing herself to meet hiseyes. "I—I didn't know I was the one till Iheard him say so."

"Yuh thought he was goin' to drop me,an' yuh jumped in front o' me; why?"

Kate's face was upturned. Her lips

parted. Her body swayed toward him.

"Take me!" she cried. "Oh, take me!"

* * * * *

"Why did yuh say what yuh did aboutwantin' to make me suffer when yuh lovedme all the time?"

"I couldn't help it. I thought I'd lost you,and then you came, and—and then Iwanted to hurt you, and I did. I don't knowwhat I'd have done if you'd gone away.For I do love you, boy!"

Loudon held her close as the dark headsnuggled against his shoulder.

"I know," said he, soberly.

"I guess I've always loved you,"murmured Kate, "I must have. I—I hatemyself when I think of—of Blakely. Ifound out what he was while he was lyinghere wounded. He was delirious and hespoke of a woman, another man's wife,named Marie, down on the Sweetwater.Oh, it was awful—what he said. I can'ttell you. It—it woke me up. Then I knewwhat I had lost when you left the ranch.You'll never leave me again, will you?"

"Of course I won't!"

It was a large wedding for the LazyRiver country.

Scotty Mackenzie privately informedJack Richie that he didn't know, themarriage might turn out all right, but Katewas such a good-looker, and he'd alwaysmistrusted good-lookers himself.

Scotty's pessimism was pardonable. Hehad lost a good employee, while Mr.Saltoun was the gainer by an excellentrange-boss.

THE END

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