"It's plumb s-suicide."

Dillon looked at his fat friend with a faint, dreary smile. He did not
himself relish the task before him. "Thought you told me to be a wolf, to
hop to it every chance I got to do some crazy thing."

Blister hedged. "Oh, well, a f-fellow wants to have some sense. I never
see a good thing that couldn't be r-run into the ground. Far as I know, I
never told you to stand on the D. & R. G. tracks an' try to stop the
express with yore head."

"I'll have to be going now," Bob said. He turned to Harshaw. "Where's
that bronc I get to carry me back?"

"Up there in the pinons. Dud, you see he gets a good one. I'm wishin' you
luck, son. An' I'll say one thing right out in meetin'. You're a better
man than Lou Harshaw." The cattleman's hand gripped that of Dillon
firmly.

"Shucks! Tha's foolishness," Bob murmured, embarrassed. "I'm scared stiff
if you want to know."

"I reckon that's why you're aimin' for to make a target of yorese'f
again," Hawks suggested ironically. "Damn 'f I'd do it for the best man
alive, let alone Jake Houck. No, sir. I'll go a reasonable way, but I
quit this side of suicide. I sure do."

Over to the left rifles were still popping, but at this point of the
ridge the firing had temporarily died down. Bob Dillon was the center of
interest.

A second time his eye traveled over the group about him. "Last call for
volunteers, boys. Anybody want to take a ride?"

Blister found in that eye some compelling quality of leadership.
"Dawg-gone you, I'll go," his high falsetto piped.

Bob shook his head. "Not you, Blister. You're too fat. We're liable to
have to travel fast."

Nobody else offered himself as a sacrifice. There were men present who
would have taken a chance for a friend, but they would not do it for
Houck.

Dud went with Bob to the pinons. While Dillon saddled one horse,
Hollister put the bridle on a second.

"What's that for?" Bob asked.

"Oh, I'm soft in the haid," Dud grunted. "Gonna trail along. I'll tell
you right now I ain't lost Houck any, but if you're set on this fool
business, why, I'll take a whirl with you."

"Good old Dud," Bob beamed. "I'll bet we get away with it fine."

"Crazy old Dud," the owner of the name grumbled. "I'll bet we get our
topknots scalped."

They rode down from the rim-rock, bearing to the right, as far away from
the river as possible. The Utes in the blackberry fringe caught sight of
them and concentrated their fire on the gal