ess and the eyes of flame, held a
tragic, impelling beauty that stung Anson into remonstrance.

"Aw, Riggs, don't beat up the kid," he protested. "Thet won't do any
good. Let her alone."

"But she's got to shut up," replied Riggs.

"How 'n hell air you goin' to shet her up? Mebbe if you get out of her
sight she'll be quiet.... How about thet, girl?"

Anson gnawed his drooping mustache as he eyed Bo.

"Have I made any kick to you or your men yet?" she queried.

"It strikes me you 'ain't," replied Anson.

"You won't hear me make any so long as I'm treated decent," said Bo.
"I don't know what you've got to do with Riggs. He ran me down--roped
me--dragged me to your camp. Now I've a hunch you're waiting for
Beasley."

"Girl, your hunch 's correct," said Anson.

"Well, do you know I'm the wrong girl?"

"What's thet? I reckon you're Nell Rayner, who got left all old
Auchincloss's property."

"No. I'm Bo Rayner. Nell is my sister. She owns the ranch. Beasley
wanted her."

Anson cursed deep and low. Under his sharp, bristling eyebrows he bent
cunning green eyes upon Riggs.

"Say, you! Is what this kid says so?"

"Yes. She's Nell Rayner's sister," replied Riggs, doggedly.

"A-huh! Wal, why in the hell did you drag her into my camp an' off up
here to signal Beasley? He ain't wantin' her. He wants the girl who owns
the ranch. Did you take one fer the other--same as thet day we was with
you?"

"Guess I must have," replied Riggs, sullenly.

"But you knowed her from her sister afore you come to my camp?"

Riggs shook his head. He was paler now and sweating more freely. The
dank hair hung wet over his forehead. His manner was that of a man
suddenly realizing he had gotten into a tight place.

"Oh, he's a liar!" exclaimed Bo, with contemptuous ring in her voice.
"He comes from my country. He has known Nell and me for years."

Snake Anson turned to look at Wilson.

"Jim, now hyar's a queer deal this feller has rung in on us. I thought
thet kid was pretty young. Don't you remember Beasley told us Nell
Rayner was a handsome woman?"

"Wal, pard Anson, if this heah gurl ain't handsome my eyes have gone
pore," drawled Wilson.

"A-huh! So your Texas chilvaree over the ladies is some operatin',"
retorted Anson, with fine sarcasm. "But thet ain't tellin' me what you
think?"

"Wal, I ain't tellin' you what I think yet. But I know thet kid ain't
Nell Rayner. For I've seen her."

Anson studied his right-hand man f