rapidity, Ford fired four shots in quick succession. And after each
shot, one of the conspirator's horses fell.

"So much for Firefly, though I wouldn't take the four for him!" snarled
the ranchman. "Now for the men! Oh, no! I'm not going to shoot them," he
added, noting the look of horror on Bob's face. "I intend to capture
them and hand them over to the law. You're lighter than I am, so you
take my pony and ride for the boys. I'll stay here and keep track of
those scoundrels. They won't be able to walk far."

Even as he spoke, Ford slipped from the saddle, and Bob taking his place
dashed away for the other cowboys.

By good fortune, he found them at the end of their range nearest the
scene of trouble, and no urging did they need to ride to their
employer's assistance when they had heard Bob's story.

Divining the purpose of the boy's departure, the conspirators had
separated and then sought to hide themselves in the long grass. But the
ranchman had kept watch of their general direction, and as his boys rode
up, ordered them to advance abreast toward the spot where the scoundrels
had disappeared.

As they approached, Ford shouted:

"If you men will surrender, we won't hurt you! But if you fire so much
as one shot, we'll kindle the prairie and roast you!"

For a moment after this terrible alternative was pronounced there was
silence and the conspirators made no move. Then one by one they stood
up, glowering with awful hatred at Bob.

"Hands up!" commanded Ford. "That's the way! Now, boys, take their guns
and knives, then bind their hands behind their backs and each carry one
behind you. We're going to take them to Red Top jail."

While his cowboys were obeying his instructions with no gentle hands,
Ford mounted his horse, keeping Bob behind him.

After the troop was under way, the ranchman asked:

"What made you take such a chance for me, boy?"

"Because you were a friend of my father!" replied Bob simply.

"What?" exclaimed Ford, turning so suddenly that he almost unseated the
boy.

"My name isn't Bob Nichols, Mr. Ford. It's Bob Chester!"

"Then I wasn't wrong! I wasn't wrong!" murmured the ranchman. And the
next moment he was hugging Bob to his breast, sobbing over him and
caressing him.

The sight of their stern, unemotional employer weeping like a woman over
Bob astounded the cowboys, and eagerly they closed around him, though
they were too impressed by the scene to speak.

But as soon as he rec