LD

Three riders came galloping along the ridge towards the hunter. At
sight of his pony the grizzled cowman in the lead signed to his
companions and came to a sudden stop behind a clump of service-berry
bushes. The others swerved in beside him, the bowlegged young puncher
on the right with his hand at his hip.

"Jumping Jehosaphat!" he exulted. "We shore have got him, Mr. Knowles,
the blasted--" His thin lips closed tight to shut in the oath as he
turned his gaze on the lovely flushed face of the girl beside him.
When his cold gray eyes met hers they lighted with a glow like that of
fire through ice.

"You better stay here, Miss Chuckie," he advised. "We're going to cure
that rustler."

"But, Kid, what if--No, no! wait!" she cried at sight of his drawn
Colt's. "Daddy, stop him! The man may not be a rustler."

"You heard the shooting," answered the cowman.

"Yes, but he may have been after a deer," answered the girl, lifting
her lithe figure tiptoe in the stirrups of her man's saddle to peer
over the bushes.

"Deer?" rejoined the puncher. "Who'd be deer-hunting in July?"

"Then a bear. He fired fast enough," remarked the girl.

"Not much chance of that round here," said the cowman. "Still, it
might be. At any rate, Kid, this time I want you to wait for me to ask
questions _before_ you cut loose."

"If he don't try any funny business," qualified the puncher.

"Course," assented Knowles. "Chuckie, you best stay back here."

"Oh, no, Daddy. There's only one man and between you and Kid--"

"_Sho!_ Come on, then, if you're set on it. Kid, you circle to the
right."

The puncher wheeled his horse and rode off around the chaparral. The
girl and Knowles, after a short wait, advanced upon the hunter. They
were soon within a few yards of him and in plain view. His pony
stopped browsing and raised its head to look at them. But the man was
stooped over, with his face the other way, and the incessant,
reverberating roar of the canyon muffled the tread of their horses on
the dusty turf.

The puncher crashed through the corner of the thicket and pulled up on
the top of the slope immediately opposite the hunter. The latter
sprang to his feet. The puncher instantly covered him with his
long-barreled revolver and snapped tersely: "Hands up!"

"My--ante!" gasped the hunter. "A--a road agent!"

But he did not throw up his hands. With the rash bravery of
inexperience, he dropped his knife and snatched out his automati