f a puzzle,
for Bud, after the first few turns of his captors, completely lost his
sense of direction, except for the general compass of the stars.

No longer the friendly loom of the hogback was on his left. He felt the
free wind of the plains on his face, and calculated that they must have
returned to the open range.

Who his captors were was another puzzle. If these men had been driving the
cattle why did they not continue to drive them instead of turning aside to
make prisoner a harmless sheepman? If they were not driving the cattle--

A horrible suspicion crossed Bud's mind. If these were punchers from the
Bar T outfit he was indeed in a bad way, for no one knew better than
Larkin (by hearsay) the wild stories told of Beef Bissell's methods in a
cattle war.

The young man told himself calmly that if he got away with a few head of
sheep and an entire body he would consider himself fortunate in the
extreme.

For seemingly endless ages the leader trotted on ahead--so far, in fact,
did he ride that Larkin's arms and elbow joints were racked with pain from
being held so long in an unnatural position. At the end of what was
probably three hours, a small fiery glow made itself evident at some
distance across the plain, and the sheepman knew by this camp-fire that
the goal of his ride was in sight.

A solitary man sat by the fire, rolling and smoking a continuous stream of
cigarettes. Dimly seen in the near-by shadows were the long figures of
other men rolled in their blankets. Bud knew that not far off the hobbled
horses grazed, or had lain down to rest.

"Kick up the boys, Bill," said the man who held the rope. "Got somethin'
queer to look into this time."

"Aw, let 'em sleep, chief," drawled Bill without moving. "Some of 'em
ain't closed their eyes in nigh on three days. What's the matter?"

"Got a young captain here who 'lows he's some brave man, I reckon.
Leastways he come drivin' at us with fire a-poppin' out of his gun, an'
Shorty and me thinks we better investigate. So we nabs him when his gun's
empty and brings him in. A man that'll shoot around reckless the way this
feller did is plumb dangerous to have runnin' loose.

"But I guess you're right about the boys, Bill. I'll let 'em sleep an'
we'll talk to this maverick in the mornin'. Keep him under your eye."

Things were clearing up for Larkin. These men evidently thought that he
was some ambitious puncher on the lookout for rustlers. Up to this time