labored heavily in its stride as its feet reached for the
road ahead.

But here Dave had the advantage. Doble was a much heavier man than he,
and his mount took the shoulder of the ridge slower. By the time the
foreman showed in silhouette against the skyline at the entrance to the
pass the younger man had disappeared.

The D Bar Lazy R foreman found out at once what had become of him. A
crisp voice gave clear directions.

"That'll be far enough. Stop right where you're at or you'll notice
trouble pop. And don't reach for yore gun unless you want to hear the
band begin to play a funeral piece."

The words came, it seemed to Doble, out of the air. He looked up. Two
great boulders lay edge to edge beside the path. Through a narrow rift
the blue nose of a forty-five protruded. Back of it glittered a pair
of steady, steely eyes.

The foreman did not at all like the look of things. Sanders was a good
shot. From where he lay, almost entirely protected, all he had to do was
to pick his opponent off at his leisure. If his hand were forced he would
do it. And the law would let him go scot free, since Doble was a fighting
man and had been seen to start in pursuit of the boy.

"Come outa there and shell out that eighteen dollars," demanded Doble.

"Nothin' doin', Dug."

"Don't run on the rope with me, young fellow. You'll sure be huntin'
trouble."

"What's the use o' beefin'? I've got the deadwood on you. Better hit the
dust back to town and explain to the boys how yore bronc went lame,"
advised Dave.

"Come down and I'll wallop the tar outa you."

"Much obliged. I'm right comfortable here."

"I've a mind to come up and dig you out."

"Please yoreself, Dug. We'll find out then which one of us goes to hell."

The foreman cursed, fluently, expertly, passionately. Not in a long time
had he had the turn called on him so adroitly. He promised Dave sudden
death in various forms whenever he could lay hands upon him.

"You're sure doin' yoreself proud, Dug," the young man told him evenly.
"I'll write the boys how you spilled language so thorough."

"If I could only lay my hands on you!" the raw-boned cattleman stormed.

"I'll bet you'd massacree me proper," admitted Dave quite cheerfully.

Suddenly Doble gave up. He wheeled his horse and began to descend the
steep slope. Steadily he jogged on to town, not once turning to look
back. His soul was filled with chagrin and fury at the defeat this
stripling had given him.