hook hands with
him.

"Not if I can help it, Jim. I want you to be my chief deputy in cleanin'
up the county. If you'll help me we'll make such a gather of bad men that
it won't be safe for a crook to show his head here."

Pauline clapped her hands. "What a splendiferous idea! It's a great
chance for you, Jim. You and Billie can do it too. I know you can."

The other young woman had recognized Prince only by a casual nod. It was
her custom to ignore him as much as possible. Now her dark, velvety eyes
jumped to meet his, then passed to Clanton. She recognized the
significance of the moment. It was Jim's last opportunity to line up on
the side of law and order. Lee, with Billie and Pauline, had stood his
loyal friend against a growing public opinion. Would he justify their
faith in him?

After a long silence Jim spoke. "No, I reckon not, Billie. I've got
interests that will take all my time. Much obliged, old scout. I'd like
to ride in couples with you like we used to do. I sure would, but I
can't."

"That's all nonsense. It's no excuse at all," broke out Lee in her direct
fashion. "Mr. Prince has more important affairs than you a good deal.
He is dropping his to serve the people. You'll have to give a better
reason than that to convince me."

Billie knew and Lee suspected what lay back of the spoken word. The duty
of the sheriff would be to hunt down the men with whom Clanton had
lately been consorting. He felt that he could not desert his friends to
line up against them. Some of these were a bad lot, the riff-raff of a
wild country, but this would not justify him in his own mind for using
his knowledge of their habits to run them to earth.

"No, I can't talk business with you, Billie," the young fellow said
decisively.

"Why can't you?" demanded Lee.

Jim Clanton smiled. "You're certainly a right persistent young lady, but
by advice of counsel I decline to answer."

Chapter XXII

The Rustlers' Camp

From Live-Oaks a breakneck trail runs up the side of the mountain, drops
down into the valley beyond, and twists among the hills and through
canons to the Ruidosa. In the darkness a man followed this precarious
path. His horse climbed it like a cat, without the least uncertainty or
doubt. Both mount and rider had covered this ground often during the
Washington County War. Joe Yankie expected to continue to use it as long
as he found a profit in other men's cattle.

When he had reached the summit he