stlessly with head uplifted and ears pointed straight
before up the steep bluff. Old Ironsides, Thurston's mount, was not the
sort to worry about anything but his feed, and paid no attention. Bob
turned and glanced the way Tamale was looking; saw nothing, and settled
down again on the small of his back.

"He sees a badger or something," he Said. "Go on, Bud, with the chorus."

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
Lift up your gates and sing."

"Lift up your hands damn quick!" mimicked a voice just behind. "If yuh
ain't got anything to do but lay in the shade of a rock and yawp, we'll
borrow your cayuses. You ain't needin' 'em, by the looks!"

They squirmed around until they could stare into two black
gun-barrels--and then their hands went up; their faces held a
particularly foolish expression that must have been amusing to the men
behind the guns.

One of the gun-barrels lowered and a hand reached out and quietly took
possession of Tamale's reins; the owner of the hand got calmly into
Bob's saddle. Bob gritted his teeth. It was evident their movements had
been planned minutely in advance, for, once settled to his liking, the
fellow tested the stirrups to make sure they were the right length, and
raising his gun pointed it at the two in a business-like manner that
left no doubt of his meaning. Whereupon the man behind them came forward
and appropriated Old Ironsides to his own use.

"Too bad we had to interrupt Sunday-school," he remarked ironically.
"You can go ahead with the meetin' now--the collection has been took
up." He laughed without any real mirth in his voice and gathered up the
reins. "If yuh want our horses, they're up on the bench. I don't
reckon they'll ever turn another cow, but such as they are you're quite
welcome. Better set still, boys, till we get out uh sight; one of us'll
keep an eye peeled for yuh. So long, and much obliged." They turned and
rode warily down the slope.

"Now, wouldn't that jar yuh?" asked Bob in deep disgust His hands
dropped to his sides; in another second he was up and shooting savagely.
"Get behind the rock, Bud," he commanded.

Just then a rifle cracked, and Bob toppled drunkenly and went limply to
the grass.

"My God!" cried Thurston, and didn't know that he spoke. He snatched up
Bob's revolver and fired shot after shot at the galloping figures. Not
one seemed to do any good; the first shot hit a two-year-old square in
the ribs. After that there were no cattle within ri