of the corral, and, riding fast, crossed the
valley above the meadows and approached the Cross-Triangle corrals from
the west. One man in the company led a horse with an empty saddle. Just
beyond the little rise of ground outside the big gate they halted, while
Jim Reid with two others, leaving their horses with the silent riders
behind the hill, went on into the corral, where they seated themselves
on the edge of the long watering trough near the tank, which hid them
from the house.

Fifteen minutes later, when the Dean stepped from the kitchen porch, he
saw Curly running toward the house. As the older man hurried toward him,
the cowboy, pale with excitement and anger, cried, "They've got him,
sir--grabbed him when he went out to the corral."

The Dean understood instantly. "My horse, quick, Curly," he said, and
hurried on toward the saddle shed. "Which way did they go?" he asked, as
he mounted.

"Toward the cedars on the ridge where it happened," came the answer. "Do
you want me?"

"No. Don't let them know in the house," came the reply. And the Dean was
gone.

The little company of horsemen, with Patches in their midst, had reached
the scene of the shooting, and had made their simple preparations. From
that moment when they had covered him with their guns as he stepped
through the corral gate, he had not spoken.

"Well, sir," said the spokesman, "have you anything to say before we
proceed?"

Patches shook his head, and wonderingly they saw that curious mocking
smile on his lips.

"I don't suppose that any remarks I might make would impress you
gentlemen in the least," he said coolly. "It would be useless and unkind
for me to detain you longer than is necessary."

An involuntary murmur of admiration came from the circle. They were men
who could appreciate such unflinching courage.

In the short pause that followed, the Dean, riding as he had not ridden
for years, was in their midst. Before they could check him the veteran
cowman was beside Patches. With a quick motion he snatched the riata
from the cowboy's neck. An instant more, and he had cut the rope that
bound Patches' hands.

"Thank you, sir," said Patches calmly.

"Don't do that, Will," called Jim Reid peremptorily. "This is our
business." In the same breath he shouted to his companions, "Take him
again, boys," and started forward.

"Stand where you are," roared the Dean, and as they looked upon the
stern countenance of the man who was so respe