re hearty in their praises of the hard riding they
had seen that morning. The ranchmen deprecated this as only "part of the
day's work," but were pleased none the less at the sincere appreciation.

The meal, although, as Sandy had hinted, wanting in "frills," was well
cooked and abundant, and the food disappeared before those healthy
appetites in a way that would have struck terror to the heart of a
boarding-house keeper. Before it was quite over, a belated cowboy
galloped in from town. He dismounted, threw his saddlebags on the bench,
and, after sousing his heated face in the friendly basin, sat down to the
table and proceeded to make amends for lost time.

"Bring a paper with you, Pete?" asked one of his friends as he pushed
back his chair and lighted his pipe.

"Yes," answered Pete between mouthfuls. "Got a copy of the Helena
'Record.' You'll find it in the saddlebag."

The first speaker rose leisurely, hunted up the newspaper and seated
himself on the step of the bunkhouse. He looked over it carelessly for
a moment and then a headline caught his attention. He read on for a few
lines and then called to his mates.

"Look here, fellows," he exclaimed. "I see that they've jugged 'Red'
Thompson and 'Shag' Leary. Caught them trying to hold up a train."

There was a stir at this and they crowded round the speaker.

"Tell us about it," they begged excitedly, for all of them knew of the
evil fame and numerous exploits of these celebrated ruffians.

"I knew the sheriff would bag them fellers before long," said one.

"Sheriff nuthin," snorted Pete disgustedly. "Them guys ain't good fur
nuthin but to wear tin stars and put up a bluff. It was a bunch of
tender-feet that nabbed 'em."

"Have a heart," said "Buck" Evans incredulously. "Don't fill us up with
anything like that."

"Them newspaper fellers is awful liars," sagely commented "Chip" Bennett.

"But it gives the names," persisted Pete. "They wouldn't go as far as
that if it wasn't so. Let's see," he went on as his stubbed finger moved
slowly over the lines. "Here they are--Wilson, Trent, Henderson--say," he
exclaimed with a quick look at the boys, "ain't them the handles you
fellers carries?"

All eyes were fixed in astonishment on the visitors, who blushed as
though they had been detected in a fault. Their embarrassment carried
conviction. The paper was thrown aside and the men gathered about them in
a chorus of eager questionings. They made them tell in ever