d the tail of Tuttle's horse, and,
holding it with one hand and swimming with the other, made good
progress. But in mid-stream a big clump of mesquite struck him in the
side, stunning him for an instant, and he let go his hold upon the
pony's tail. A high wave roared down upon him the next moment, and
carried him his length and more down stream. He fought with all his
strength against the swift current, but, faint and stunned, could
barely hold his own. He shouted to Tuttle, who was just landing, and
Tom threw the end of his lariat far out into the middle of the stream.
Ellhorn felt the rope across his body, grasped it and called to Tuttle
to pull.

"Tommy," he said, when safe on land, "I hope we'll find the whole
Fillmore outfit just a-walkin' all over Emerson. I don't want more'n
half an excuse to get even with 'em for this trip. Sure and I wish I
had 'em all here right now! I'm just in the humor to make sieves of
'em!"

CHAPTER X

Emerson Mead waited until the four horsemen were within two hundred
yards of him, and then he called out a good-natured "hello." The
others checked their horses to a slow walk, and after a moment one of
them hastily shouted an answering salutation. Mead instantly called in
reply:

"I reckon you'd better stay where you are, boys. We can talk this way
just as well as any other." The others halted and he went on: "Suppose
you say, right now, whether you want anything particular."

They looked at one another, apparently surprised by this speech, and
presently the foreman said:

"We thought you must be having trouble with your cattle. Stampede on
you?"

"They're all right now. They're 'milling,' and won't give me any more
trouble. But I reckon you didn't ride up here to ask me if my cattle
had stampeded. You better talk straight just what you do want."

They hesitated again, looking at one another as if their plans had
miscarried. "They expected I'd begin poppin' at 'em and give 'em an
excuse to open out on me all at once," Mead thought. Then he called
out:

"Jim, you out here to buy some cattle? Can I sell you some of mine?"

"You know I don't want to buy cattle," Halliday replied, sulkily.

"No? Then maybe you've come to ask me if it's goin' to rain?" Mead
smilingly replied.

"I reckon you know what I want, Emerson Mead," Halliday said angrily,
as if nettled by Mead's assured, good-natured tone and manner. "You
know you're a fugitive from justice, and that it's my duty