sed word to get to Bill that he might expect trouble for his
assistance to The Orphan, and for having had a hand in sending the five
cowboys to their deaths. The news immediately reached the ears of the
sheriff, who determined to see that Bill received no injury at the hands
of the Cross Bar-8. He quietly made up his mind to be near the stage
route on the days when Bill drove through the defile of the Backbone,
and to be within call if he should be needed. If he should think it
necessary, he would even go so far as to become a regular passenger
in the coach until the trouble died down. To the masterly driving and
cool-headed courage of Bill no less than to the daring and accuracy of
The Orphan was the sheriff indebted for the lives of his sisters; and
the protection of Bill clove close to the line of duty, and not one
whit less to the line of law and order.

Bill laughed and boasted and made a joke of the thought of any danger
from the malcontents of the Cross Bar-8, and flatly refused to allow the
sheriff to ride with him. He talked volubly until the agent profanely
sent him on his journey, and he tore through the streets of the town in
the same old way. He forded the Limping Water in safety and crossed the
ten mile stretch of open plain without a sign of trouble. As he left the
water of the stream the sheriff started after him from town, intending to
be not far behind him when he entered the rough country.

When Bill plunged into the defile through the Backbone he began to grow a
little apprehensive, and he intently watched each stretch of the road as
each successive turn unfolded it to his sight. His foot was on the brakes
and he was braced to stop the rush of his team at the first glimpse of an
obstruction, or to tear past the danger if he could. One coyote yell and
one snap of the whip would send the team wild, for they remembered well.

All was nice until he neared the place where The Orphan had held him up
for a smoke, and it was there the trouble occurred. As he swung around
the sharp turn he saw four cowboys bunched squarely in the center of the
trail and at such a distance from him that to attempt to dash past them
would be to lay himself open to several shots. They had him covered, and
as he grasped the situation Tex Williard rode forward and held up his hand.

"Stop!" Tex shouted. "Get down!"

"What in thunder do you want?" Bill asked, setting the brakes and stopping
his team, wonder showing on his face.