Probably Mr. Roberts--and everybody else, for that matter--thought she
could not be a nice girl, since she had been so silly.

"You go home an' stay there," continued Clint severely. "Don't you poke
yore head outside the door till I come back. I'll not have you traipsing
around this-a-way. Hear me, honey?"

"Yes, Dad," she murmured through the tears that were beginning to come.

"I reckon, when it comes to standin' off a crowd o' hoodlums, I don't
need any help from a half-grown little squab like you. I been too easy
on you. That's what ails you."

Ramona had not a word to say for herself. She crept into the house and
up to her room, flung herself on the bed and burst into a passion of
weeping. Why had she made such an exhibition of herself? She was ashamed
in every fiber of her being. Not only had she disgraced herself, but
also her father and her aunt.

Meanwhile her father was on his way back downtown. In spite of his years
the cattleman was hot-headed. He had something to say to Pete Dinsmore.
If it led to trouble Wadley would be more than content, for he believed
now that the Dinsmore gang--or some one of them acting in behalf of
all--had murdered his son, and he would not rest easy until he had
avenged the boy.

The Dinsmores were not at the Silver Dollar nor at the Bird Cage. A
lounger at the bar of the latter told the owner of the A T O that they
had gone to the corral for their horses. He had heard them say they were
going to leave town.

The cattleman followed them to the corral they frequented. Pete Dinsmore
was saddling his horse in front of the stable. The others were not in
sight, but a stable boy in ragged jeans was working over some harness
near the door.

Dinsmore sulkily watched Wadley approach. He was in a sour and sullen
rage. One of the privileges of a "bad-man" is to see others step softly
and speak humbly in his presence. But to-day a young fellow scarcely out
of his teens had made him look like a fool. Until he had killed Roberts,
the chief of the outlaws would never be satisfied, nor would his
prestige be what it had been. It had been the interference of Wadley and
his crowd that had saved the Ranger from him, and he was ready to vent
his anger on the cattleman if he found a good chance.

The outlaw knew well enough that he could not afford to quarrel with the
owner of the A T O. There was nothing to gain by it and everything to
lose, for even if the cattleman should be killed in a fai