ide ahead there," ordered Bud. Caldwell, whimpering, took his position.

"Put your hands behind you." The other made as though to comply with this
command, when suddenly with a swift motion he put something in his
mouth.

Instantly Bud had him by the throat, forcing his mouth open. Caldwell,
forced by this grip, spat out something that Bud caught with his free
hand. It was a piece of paper. Larkin slipped it into the pocket of his
shirt and released his clutch. Then he bound Smithy's hands and started
back toward the scene of the raid.

When he arrived, with his prisoner riding ahead on the limping horse, he
found that all was over. Two of the rustlers were dead, but the rest were
sitting silent on the ground by the side of the cook-wagon. One sheepman
had been killed, and another's broken shoulder was being roughly dressed
by Sims.

Others of the sheepmen were riding around the herd, quieting it. That
there had been no stampede was due to the fact that the shooting had come
from all sides at once, and the creatures, bewildered, had turned in upon
themselves and crowded together in sheer terror, trampling to death a
number in the center of the herd.

Less than half a mile ahead were the banks of the Big Horn and the ford. A
mile behind the leaders of the sheep were steadily advancing. There was
only one thing to be done.

"Drive the cows across the ford," commanded Bud. Then he told off a detail
to guard the prisoners, and the rest of the men got the cattle in motion
toward the crossing.

Bud did not join this work. Instead, he pulled from his pocket the bit of
paper that Smithy Caldwell had attempted to swallow. By the light of a
match he read what it said:

The range is clear. Drive north fast to-nite and travel day and nite.
Meet me to-morrow at Indian Coulee at ten. Burn this. Stelton.

For a minute Bud stared at the incriminating paper, absolutely unable to
digest the information it carried. Then with a rush understanding came to
him, and he knew that Mike Stelton, the trusted foreman of the Bar T
ranch, was really the leader of the rustlers, and was the most active of
all of them in robbing old Beef Bissell.

For a long time he sat motionless on his horse, reviewing all the events
that had passed, which now explained the remarkable activity of the
rustlers and their ability to escape pursuit and capture.

"I don't know where Indian Coulee is, Stelton," he said to himself, "but
I'll be there at ten