ariat, then surrendered tamely. Dave patted it gently,
stroked the neck, and spoke softly reassuring words. He picked up one of
the front feet and examined the shoe. This was badly worn, and on the
left side part of it had broken off.

A man came to the back door of the cabin and stretched in a long and
luxuriant yawn. Carelessly and casually his eyes wandered over the aspens
and into the corral. For a moment he stood frozen, his arms still flung
wide.

From the aspens came down Crawford's voice, cool and ironic. "Much
obliged, Shorty. Leave 'em right up and save trouble."

The squat cowpuncher's eyes moved back to the aspens and found there the
owner of the D Bar Lazy R. "Wha'dya want?" he growled sullenly.

"You--just now. Step right out from the house, Shorty. Tha's right.
Anybody else in the house?"

"No."

"You'll be luckier if you tell the truth."

"I'm tellin' it."

"Hope so. Dave, step forward and get his six-shooter. Keep him between
you and the house. If anything happens to you I'm goin' to kill him right
now."

Shorty shivered, hardy villain though he was. There had been nobody in
the house when he left it, but he had been expecting some one shortly. If
his partner arrived and began shooting, he knew that Crawford would drop
him in his tracks. His throat went dry as a lime kiln. He wanted to shout
out to the man who might be inside not to shoot at any cost. But he was a
game and loyal ruffian. He would not spoil his confederate's chance by
betraying him. If he said nothing, the man might come, realize the
situation, and slip away unobserved.

Sanders took the man's gun and ran his hand over his thick body to make
sure he had no concealed weapon.

"I'm going to back away. You come after me, step by step, so close I
could touch you with the gun," ordered Dave.

The man followed him as directed, his hands still in the air. His captor
kept him in a line between him and the house door. Crawford rode down to
join them. The man who claimed not to be foolhardy stayed up in the
timber. This was no business of his. He did not want to be the target
of any shots from the cabin.

The cattleman swung down from the saddle. "Sure we'll 'light and come in,
Shorty. No, you first. I'm right at yore heels with this gun pokin' into
yore ribs. Don't make any mistake. You'd never have time to explain it."

The cabin had only one room. The bunks were over at one side, the stove
and table at the other. Two six-pane