ely: "Yes, sir. He makes everything
right when he takes hold of it."

"Good. We're not going to let him get away from us after making us so
happy, are we, mother? This young man is going to stay right here. We
never had but one son, and we are going to treat him as much like one as
we can. Eh, mother?"

"If he will consent, Webb." She went up to the ranger and kissed his
tanned cheek. "You must pardon an old woman whom you've made very
happy."

Again Bucky's laughing blue eyes met the brown ones of his sweetheart.

"Oh, I'll consent, all right, and I reckon, ma'am, it's mighty good of
you to treat me so white. I'll sure try to please you."

Webb thumped him on the back. "Now, you're shouting. We want you to be
one of us, young man."

Once more that happy, wireless message of eyes followed by O'Connor's
assent. "That's what I want myself, seh."

Bucky found a surprise waiting for him at the stables. A heavy hand
descended upon his shoulder. He whirled, and looked up into the face of
Sheriff Collins.

"You here, Val?" he cried in surprise.

"That's what. Any luck, Bucky?"

They went out and sat down on the big rocks back of the corral. Here
each told the other his story, with certain reservations. Collins had
just got back from Epitaph, where he had been to get the fragments of
paper which told the secret of the buried treasure. He was expecting to
set out in the early morning to meet Leroy.

"I'll go with you," said Bucky immediately.

Val shook his head. "No, I'm to go alone. That's the agreement."

"Of course if that's the agreement." Nevertheless, the ranger formed a
private intention not to be far from the scene of action.

CHAPTER 21. THE WOLF PACK

"Good evening, gentlemen. Hope I don't intrude on the festivities."

Leroy smiled down ironically on the four flushed, startled faces that
looked up at him. Suspicion was alive in every rustle of the men's
clothes. It breathed from the lowering countenances. It itched at the
fingers longing for the trigger. The unending terror of a bandit's life
is that no man trusts his fellow. Hence one betrays another for fear of
betrayal, or stabs him in the back to avoid it.

The outlaw chief had slipped into the room so silently that the first
inkling they had of his presence was that gentle, insulting voice. Now,
as he lounged easily before them, leg thrown over the back of a chair
and thumbs sagging from his trouser pockets, they looked the picture of
sc