nother; and at the end of
the quiz Tom was pumped nearly dry. Those who heard his confession
listened to the story of how and why he had first started rustling--the
tale of each exploit, the location of the mountain cache where the
calves had been driven, even the name of the Mexican buyer who once had
come across the line to receive a bunch of stolen cattle.

Keller laid down his conditions. "You'll go to Red _muy pronto_, and
tell him he's got thirty-six hours to get across the line. He and you
will go to Sonora, and you'll stay there. We've got you dead to rights.
Show up in this country again, and you'll both go to Yuma. Understand?"

Tom understood well enough. He writhed under it, but he was up against
the need of surrender. Sullenly he waited until the other had laid down
the law, then asked for his weapons. Keller emptied the chambers of the
cartridges, and returned the revolvers, looking also to the magazine of
the rifle before he handed it back. Without a word, without even a nod
or a glance, Dixon rode out of the gulch.

The eyes of the remaining two met, and became tangled at once. Hastily
both pairs withdrew.

"We'll have to drive the calf back, won't we?" said Phyllis, seizing on
the first irrelevant thing that occurred to say.

"Yes--as far as Tryon's."

Presently she said: "Do you think they will leave the country?"

"No."

Her glance swept him in surprise. "Then--why did you let him go so
easily?"

He smiled. "Didn't you ask me to let him off?"

"Yes; but----" How could she explain that by lapsing from his duty so far,
even at her request, he had disappointed her!

"No, ma'am! I'm a false alarm. It wasn't out of gallantry I unroped him.
Shall I tell you why it was? I kept naming Red as his partner. But
Hughes ain't in this. He has been in Sonora for a year. When Tom goes
back all worried and tells what has happened to him, the gentleman who
is the brains for the outfit is going to be right pleased I'm following
a false trail. That's liable to make him more careless. If we had had
the evidence to cinch Dixon it would have been different. But a roan
calf is a roan calf. I don't expect the owner could swear to it, even if
we knew who he was. So I made my little play and let him go."

"And I thought all the time you were doing it for me," she laughed, and
on the heels of it made her little confession: "And I was blaming you
for giving way."

"I'll know now that the way to please you is not t