ows a healthy climate as far as he can see the sun
a-shinin'," he chuckled; and then to his deputies: "Light down, boys,
and we'll see what sort o' chuck he's left for us."

In the dismounting Ballard drew Bigelow aside. "What has happened?" he
asked.

"You can prove nothing by me," returned Bigelow, half quizzically. "I've
been asleep most of the day. When I woke up, an hour or so ago, the
doors were open and the cabin was empty. Also, there was a misspelled
note charcoaled on a box-cover in the kitchen, making us free of the
horse-bait and the provisions. Also, again, a small bunch of cattle that
I had seen grazing in a little park up the creek had disappeared."

"Um," said Ballard, discontentedly. "All of which makes us accessories
after the fact in another raid on Colonel Craigmiles's range herd. I
don't like that."

"Nor do I," Bigelow agreed. "But you can't eat a man's bread, and then
stay awake to see which way he escapes. I'm rather glad I was sleepy
enough not to be tempted. Which reminds me: you must be about all in on
that score yourself, Mr. Ballard."

"I? Oh, no; I got in five or six hours on the railroad train, going and
coming between Jack's Cabin and the county seat."

The posse members were tramping into the kitchen to ransack it for food
and drink, and Bigelow stood still farther aside.

"You managed to gather up a beautiful lot of cutthroats in the short
time at your disposal," he remarked.

"Didn't I? And now you come against one of my weaknesses, Bigelow: I
can't stay mad. Last night I thought I'd be glad to see a bunch of the
colonel's cow-boys well hanged. To-day I'm sick and ashamed to be seen
tagging this crew of hired sure-shots into the colonel's domain."

"Just keep on calling it the Arcadia Company's domain, and perhaps the
feeling will wear off," suggested the Forestry man.

"It's no joke," said Ballard, crustily; and then he went in to take his
chance of supper with the sheriff and his "sure-shots."

There was still sufficient daylight for the upper canyon passage when
the rough-riders had eaten Carson out of house and home, and were
mounted again for the ascent to the Kingdom of Arcadia. In the up-canyon
climb, the sheriff kept the boy, Dick, within easy bridle clutch,
remembering a certain other canyon faring in which the cattle thief's
son had narrowly missed putting his father's captors, men and horses,
into the torrent of the Boiling Water. Ballard and Bigelow rode ahead;