nothing less, if not much worse, fully understood that his opponent had
the "drop" on him and would not stop to parley unless the order to
elevate his hands was obeyed.

The second rascal, in his sitting position, attempted to draw a pistol,
but Allen, producing his own weapon, forced the man to remain
stationary.

"We hev ye, stranger," remarked Watson after a second of silence. "Do ye
acknowledge the corn?"

"What's the meaning of this outrage?" growled the fellow who was
standing, and he scowled fiercely, first at the old hunter and then at
the young ranchman.

"It means firstly that ye are in our power," chuckled Watson. It was
evident that he thoroughly enjoyed the situation.

"Well?"

"Then ye acknowledge thet, do ye?"

"I suppose we'll have to."

"It's Ike Watson from Gold Fork," put in the man who was sitting.

"Ike Watson!" the face of the speaker grew quite disturbed. It was plain
he had heard of Watson before and did not relish being held up by the
well-known old man.

"Ye-as, I'm Ike Watson," drawled the old hunter. "Now, strangers, give
me yer handles, and let me have 'em straight."

"My name is Roe Bluckburn," came from the standing man.

"Mine is Lou Slavin, and I'm not ashamed of it," came from the other.

"Jes' so," mused Watson. "I've heard o' both o' yeez belongin' to the
old Sol Davids gang o' hoss thieves."

"You are mistaken. We are not thieves of any sort," said Bluckburn, who
appeared the leader of the pair.

"Well, we won't quarrel about that, seein' ez how we are on another
trail ter day. We want ye ter up an' tell us ter onct whar Barnaby
Winthrop is."

"Yes, and tell us the truth," put in Allen, sternly.

The men were both taken aback by the request. They exchanged glances and
each waited for the other to speak.

"Come, out with it, Bluckburn!" cried Watson.

"Dunno the man you are talking about."

"Ye can't come it thet way. Didn't I hear ye talkin' it over down ter
Casey's Forks only yesterday? Come, out with the truth, or take the
consequences!" and to scare the horse thief Ike Watson tapped his gun
barrel suggestively.

"Must be some mistake. We wasn't near Casey's Fork in a month. Eh, Lou?"

"Nixy."

"Ye tell it so smooth I would most believe ye, if I hadn't follered ye
up," growled Watson. "But we know ye air in the deal ag'in Barnaby
Winthrop, an' I am hyer ter help his nevvy thar, Allen Winthrop. So ye
hed better ease yer mind ter onct. Understand?"