en who had been taken into custody during the early
hours of the morning. Neither Hollis or Norton had been allowed to
participate in the final scene, the little captain informing them curtly
that the presence of civilians at what promised to be a free-for-all
fight was strictly forbidden. And so Norton had returned to the Circle
Bar, while Hollis had gone to Dry Bottom to finish an article for the
next issue of the _Kicker_.

It had been in that bald, gray time between darkness and dawn when Ben
Allen and Hollis, riding at the head of the detail of troopers beside
the dapper little captain, had arrived at the edge of the butte where
Hollis had directed Norton to await his coming.

Norton's only comment upon seeing the troopers had been: "Where in hell
did them come from?"

He told Allen that he had watched where Dunlavey and his men had driven
the cattle, and that he would find them concealed in a narrow defile
between two hills about a mile on the other side of the Rabbit-Ear. He
and Hollis had announced their intention to accompany the troop to the
scene, but had been refused permission by the captain.

The capture of the thieves had been quite a simple matter. In single
file the troopers had descended the slope of the river, crossed a
shallow, and clattered up the other side. A mile dash at a gallop had
brought them to one end of the defile mentioned by Norton, and in a
grove of fir-balsam the captain had deployed his troopers and swooped
suddenly down into the defile, surprising several men, who with
Dunlavey, were busily at work altering the brands on the cattle they had
stolen. There was a fire near the center of the defile, with branding
irons scattered about it.

The stolen cattle bore various brands. There were perhaps a dozen
belonging to the Circle Bar, several from the Pig Pen; others bore the
brands of the Three Bar and the Diamond Dot.

Proof of Dunlavey's guilt had been absolute. He had made some
resistance, but had been quickly overpowered by Allen and the troopers.
Then with their prisoners the troops had returned to Dry Bottom.

Hollis rode slowly toward the Circle Bar. He was tired--dead tired. When
he arrived at the Hazelton cabin the shade on the porch looked so
inviting that he dismounted, tied his pony to one of the slender porch
columns, and seated himself, leaning wearily against the column to which
he had tied his pony.

He sat there long, staring at a clump of nondescript weed that f