ith a terrific yank the
horseman snapped in the slack, the cowman's feet flew from under him, and
with one foot taut in the air, caught at the ankle, he lay cursing and
shaking an impotent fist.

As Alex and the oiler ran forward the Indian sat on his horse like a
statue, holding the lariat taut.

The oiler reached the prisoner first, revolver in hand.

"Get up, you!" he ordered. Sullenly the man obeyed. Removing a
handkerchief from about his neck, the oiler gave it to Alex, who securely
bound the man's hands behind him. Throwing off the lassoo, they turned
toward the Indian. With some wonder, they saw he was carefully examining
the hoofs of the pony he was leading. Concluding the inspection with a
grunt, he came forward, winding up the rope, and halted before them.

"You hoss?" he asked of the prisoner, pointing over his shoulder.

The cowboy looked at him contemptuously, and responded, "Well, what if it
is, Old Ugly-Mug?"

The oiler brought up the pistol. "I don't know why he wants to know, but
you go ahead and tell him!" he ordered threateningly. "He's twice the man
you are. Is it your horse?"

"Yes."

Little Hawk turned away with a grunt of satisfaction, and mounting his
pony, rode off towards the junction.

What the Indian meant Alex learned when, with their prisoner between
them, he and the oiler approached the boarding-train, and met Little Hawk
returning with Superintendent Finnan.

"That him!" said the Indian briefly as they drew near. "Him burn cars!"

From the prisoner came a hissing gasp. As Alex turned upon him with a
sharp ejaculation of understanding, however, the man assumed an
indifferent air, and strode on nonchalantly.

"What do you want?" he demanded insolently of the superintendent. "Can't
a man pull off a--a little joke without these idiots of yours going out
of their heads? It was nothing more than a bit of fun me and my mate was
having," he affirmed boldly.

Superintendent Finnan smiled sardonically. "That is what the K. & Z. call
it, eh?"

Alex, still with a hand on the prisoner's arm, felt him start. But
brazenly the man replied, "K. & Z.? What's the K. & Z.? A ranch brand? I
never heard of it."

On a thought Alex stepped forward and whispered a word in the official's
ear.

"Go ahead," said the superintendent.

"I'm going to search your pockets," Alex announced, stepping back to the
side of the renegade cowman. "No objection, I suppose, since you don't
know what K. & Z. m