rothy. "No, you had better let me catch
him. He knows me."

And Dorothy stepped from the clearing round the spring and walked toward
the horses. They were grazing quite a ways off, up the hillside.

Bartley recalled having glimpsed Little Jim crawling through the brush
on the south side of the spring. No doubt Jimmy had grown tired of
waiting, and had dropped down to the mesa on foot to hunt rabbits. Once
clear of the hillside brush, Bartley was able to overlook the mesa
below. Presently he discerned a black hat moving along slowly. Evidently
the young hunter was stalking game.

Bartley hesitated to call out. He doubted that Jimmy could hear him at
that distance. Stepping down the gentle slope of the hillside to the
road, Bartley watched Jimmy for a while, hoping that he would turn and
see him. But Jimmy was busy. "Might as well go back and get the horses
and ride over to him," said Bartley.

He had turned to cross the road, when he heard the sound of quick
hoof-beats. Surely Dorothy had not caught up the horses so soon? Bartley
turned toward the bend of the road. Presently a rider, his worn chaps
flapping, his shapeless hat pulled low, and his quirt swinging at every
jump of the horse, pounded up and had almost passed Bartley, when he set
up his horse and dismounted. Bartley did not recognize him until he
spoke.

"My name's Hull. I was lookin' for you."

"All right, Mr. Hull. What do you want?"

Hull's gaze traveled up and down the Easterner. Hull was looking to see
if the other carried a gun. Bartley expected argument and inwardly
braced himself. Meanwhile he wondered if he could find Hull's chin
again, and as easily as he had found it that night back of the livery
barn. Hull loomed big and heavy, and it was evident from the minute he
dismounted that he meant business.

Without a word, Hull swung at Bartley, smashing in with right and left,
fighting like a wild-cat, forcing his weight into the fight, and kicking
wickedly when he got a chance. Finally, after taking a straight blow in
the face, Hull clinched--and the minute Bartley felt those tough-sinewed
arms around him he knew that he was in for a licking.

Bartley's only chance, and that a pretty slim one, lay in getting free
from the grip of those arms. He used his knee effectively. Hull grunted
and staggered back. Bartley jumped forward and bored in, knocking Hull
off his feet. The cow-puncher struck the ground, rolled over, and was up
and coming like a