me----" began Tucker, when once more the sight of Pawnee Brown's pistol
silenced him.

No more was said as the scout, Dick and Rasco rode away down the trail
by which they had come. But, once out of sight, Tucker raised his fist
and shook it savagely.

"I'll get square with you some day, Pawnee Brown, mark my words!" he
muttered between his set teeth.

"We'll all get square," said Ross. "I hate the sight of that man."

"I understand the boomers have made him their leader," broke in Skimmy.
"If they have, he'll try to break through to Oklahoma as sure as guns
are guns."

"And he'll get shot, too," answered Tucker dryly. "The lieutenant is
having all of the boomers' movements watched."

"Pawnee Brown will do his level best to give us the slip, see if he
don't," remarked Skimmy. "Four thousand boomers wouldn't make him their
leader for nothing."

Thus, talking among themselves, the three cavalrymen mounted their
horses and rode back to their various picket stations along the boundary
line of the Indian Territory.

They were a detachment of the Seventh United States Cavalry, and the
lieutenant referred to by Tucker was in command.

For over a month they had been watching the boomers assembling in
Kansas. Other portions of the United States troops were watching the
would-be Oklahoma settlers in Arkansas and Texas.

There was every prospect of a lively time ahead, and it was not far off.

Reaching his station, Tucker drew from his pocket a briar-root pipe,
filled and lit it and began to puff away meditatively.

His face had been ugly before, but now as he began to meditate it grew
blacker than ever.

"Hang me, if everything ain't going wrong," he muttered. "I won't stand
it. I'll make a kick, and when I do----" He paused as a shadow among the
trees caught his eye. "Who goes there?" he called out and drew his
pistol.

"A friend. Tucker, is that you?"

"Vorlange!" cried the cavalryman, and the next moment the newcomer and
the military man were face to face.

"It's about time you showed up," growled Tucker, after a brief pause,
during which the newcomer looked at him anxiously. "Say, Vorlange, when
do you intend to settle up with me. Give it to me straight, now."

"That's why I left the trail to hunt you up, Tucker--I knew you were
anxious about that five hundred dollars."

"Why shouldn't I be? It took me a long time to save it--a good sight
longer than it did for you to gamble it away."

"Tucker, I di