ost stories he's heard about Dan Barry!"

"Ghost stories?" echoed Reeve. "Some of 'em ain't fairy tales, Sliver."

"Jest name one that ain't!"

"Well, the way he trailed Jim Silent. We've all heard of Silent, and
Barry--was too good for him."

"Bah," sneered Sliver. "Too good for Silent? Ye lied readily enough:
booze done for Silent long before Barry come along."

"That right?"

"I'll tell a man it is. Mind you, I don't say Barry ain't handy with his
gun; but he's done a little and the gents have furnished the trimmin's.
Look here, if Barry is the man-eater they say, why did he pick a time
for comin' down when the sheriff was out of town?"

"By God!" exclaimed Ronicky. "I never thought of that!"

"Sure you didn't," chuckled Sliver. "But this sucker figures that you
and Gus and me will be easy pickin's. He figures we'll do what Vic
did--hit for the tall pines. Then he'll blow around how he ran the four
of us out of Alder. Be pleasant comin' back to talk like that, eh?"

There was a volley of rapid curses from the other two.

"We'll get this cheap skate, Sliver," suggested Ronicky. "We'll get this
ghost and tie him up and take him back to Alder and make a show of him."

"We will," nodded Sliver. "Have you figured how?"

"Lie out here in the bush. He'll hunt around Alder all night and when
the mornin' comes he'll leave and he'll come out this way. We'll be
ready for him where the valley's narrow down there. They say his hoss
and his dog is as bad as any two ordinary men. Well, that's three of
them and here's three of us. It's an even break, eh?"

"Ronicky," murmured Sliver, "I always knowed you had the brains. We'll
take this gent and tame him, and run him back to Alder on the end of a
rope."

Gus Reeve whooped and waved his hat at the thought.

So the three reached the point where the shadowy walls of the valley
narrowed, drew almost together. There they placed the horses in a hollow
near the southern cliff, and they returned to take post. There was
only one bridle path which wound through the gulch here, and the three
concealed themselves behind a thicket of sagebrush to wait.

They laid their plan carefully. Each man was to have his peculiar duty:
Gus Reeve, an adept with the rope, would wait until the black stallion
was cantering past and then toss his noose and throw the horse. At the
same instant, Ronicky Joe would shoot the wolf-dog, and Sliver Waldron
would perforate Dan Barry while the latter rol