Fatty, she damn bad man. She try for keel you w'en you tak' de
shot at de wheel. A'm com' 'long dat time an' A'm keek heem in de guts
an' he roll 'roun' on de floor, an' A'm t'row de bottle of wheesky an'
smash de beeg lamp an' we com' 'long out of dere." The cowpuncher tossed
his cigarette away and spat upon the ground.

"How'd you happen to come in there so handy just at the right time?" he
asked with a sidewise glance at the half-breed.

"Oh, A'm fol' you long tam'. A'm t'ink mebbe-so you git l'il too mooch
hooch an' som'one try for do you oop. A'm p'ek in de door an' seen Fatty
gon' shoot you. Dat mak' me mad lak hell, an' A'm run oop an' keek heem
so hard I kin on hees belly. You ma frien'. A'm no lak I seen you git
keel."

The Texan nodded. "I see. You're a damn good Injun, Bat, an' I ain't
got no kick comin' onto the way you took charge of proceedin's. But you
sure raised hell when you stole that horse. They's prob'ly about
thirty-seven men an' a sheriff a-combin' these here hills fer us at this
partic'lar minute an' when they catch us----"

The half-breed laughed. "Dem no ketch. We com' feefty mile. Dat leetle
hoss she damn good hoss. We got de two bes' hoss. We ke'p goin' dey no
ketch. 'Spose dey do ketch. Me, A'm tell 'em A'm steal dat hoss an' you
not know nuthin' 'bout dat."

There was a twinkle in the Texan's eye as he yawned and stretched
prodigiously. "An' I'll tell 'em you're the damnedest liar in the state
of Texas an' North America throw'd in. Come on, now, you throw the
shells on them horses an' we'll be scratchin' gravel. Fifty miles ain't
no hell of a ways--my throat's beginnin' to feel kind of draw'd already."

"W'er' we goin'?" asked the half-breed as they swung into the saddles.

"Bat," said the other, solemnly, "me an' you is goin' fast, an' we're
goin' a long time. You mentioned somethin' about Montana bein'
considerable of a cow country. Well, me an' you is a-goin' North--as far
North as cattle is--an' we're right now on our way!"

CHAPTER I

THE TRAIN STOPS

"I don't see why they had to build their old railroad down in the
bottom of this river bed." With deft fingers Alice Marcum caught back
a wind-tossed whisp of hair. "It's like travelling through a trough."

"Line of the least resistance," answered her companion as he rested an
arm upon the polished brass guard rail of the observation car. "This
river bed, running east and west, saved them milli