ude, is it? I might 'a' shot you safe
and comfortable from the mesquite and saved a lot of trouble."

"I don't wonder you're disgusted, Chet. But be an optimist. I might
'a' busted you high and wide with that quirt instead of giving you a
nice little easy tap that just did the business. There's no manner of
use being regretful over past mistakes," Dave told him cheerfully.

"It's easy enough for you to say that," groaned Fox, his hand to an
aching head. "But I didn't lambaste you one on the nut. Anyhow,
you've won out."

"I had won out all the time, only I hadn't pulled it off yet," Dingwell
explained with a grin. "You didn't think I was going up to the horse
ranch with you meek and humble, did you? But we can talk while we
ride. I got to hustle back to Battle Butte and turn in this sack to
the sheriff so as I can claim the reward. Hate to trouble you, Chet,
but I'll have to ask you to transfer that gunnysack back to Teddy.
He's through bucking for to-day, I shouldn't wonder."

Sourly Fox did as he was told. Then, still under orders, he mounted
his own horse and rode back with his former prisoner to the park.
Dingwell gathered up the rifle and revolver that had been left at the
edge of the aspen grove and headed the horses for Battle Butte.

"We'll move lively, Chet," he said. "It will be night first thing we
know."

Chet Fox was no fool. He could see how carefully Dingwell had built up
the situation for his coup, and he began at once laying the groundwork
for his own escape. There was in his mind no intention of trying to
recover the gold himself, but if he could get away in time to let the
Rutherfords know the situation, he knew that Dave would have an uneasy
life of it.

"'Course I was joking about shooting you up from the mesquite, Dave,"
he explained as the horses climbed the trail from the park. "I ain't
got a thing against you--nothing a-tall. Besides, I'm a law-abiding
citizen. I don't hold with this here gunman business. I never was a
killer, and I don't aim to begin now."

"Sure, I know how tender-hearted you are, Chet. I'm that way, too.
I'm awful sorry for myself when I get in trouble. That's why I tapped
you on the cocoanut with the end of my quirt. That's why I'd let you
have about three bullets from old Tried and True here right in the back
if you tried to make your getaway. But, as you say, I haven't a thing
against you. I'll promise you one of the nicest funerals Washingt