sighed as he grinned at his friend. "I need that supper in my
system. I sure do, but I reckon I don't get it."

"You do not, old lizard," agreed Hart. "I'll say Doble's the most
inconsiderate guy I ever did trail. Why couldn't he 'a' showed up a
half-hour later, dad gum his ornery hide?"

They paid their bill and passed into the street. Immediately the sound of
a clear, high voice arrested their attention. It vibrated indignation and
dread.

"What have you done with my father?" came sharply to them on the wings of
the soft night wind.

A young woman was speaking. She was in a buggy and was talking to two men
on the sidewalk--the two men who had preceded the range-riders out of the
restaurant.

"Why, Miss, we ain't done a thing to him--nothin' a-tall." The man Shorty
was speaking, and in a tone of honeyed conciliation. It was quite plain
he did not want a scene on the street.

"That's a lie." The voice of the girl broke for an instant to a sob. "Do
you think I don't know you're Brad Steelman's handy man, that you do his
meanness for him when he snaps his fingers?"

"You sure do click yore heels mighty loud, Miss." Dave caught in that
soft answer the purr of malice. He remembered now hearing from Buck
Byington that years ago Emerson Crawford had rounded up evidence to send
Shorty to the penitentiary for rebranding through a blanket. "I reckon
you come by it honest. Em always acted like he was God Almighty."

"Where is he? What's become of him?" she cried.

"Is yore paw missin'? I'm right sorry to hear that," the cowpuncher
countered with suave irony. He was eager to be gone. His glance followed
Doble, who was moving slowly down the street.

The girl's face, white and shining in the moonlight, leaned out of the
buggy toward the retreating vaquero. "Don't you dare hurt my father!
Don't you dare!" she warned. The words choked in her tense throat.

Shorty continued to back away. "You're excited, Miss. You go home an'
think it over reasonable. You'll be sorry you talked this away to me," he
said with unctuous virtue. Then, swiftly, he turned and went straddling
down the walk, his spurs jingling music as he moved.

Quickly Dave gave directions to his friend. "Duck back into the
restaurant, Bob. Get a pocketful of dry rice from the Chink. Trail those
birds to their nest and find where they roost. Then stick around like a
burr. Scatter rice behind you, and I'll drift along later. First off, I
got to stay and talk w