irl," shouted Beasley. "You made thet mistake
once before. What're you up to?"

"I chased her an' when I got her, seein' it wasn't Nell Rayner--why--I
kept her, anyhow," replied Riggs. "An' I've got a word for your ear
alone."

"Man, you're crazy--queerin' my deal thet way!" roared Beasley. "You
heard my plans.... Riggs, this girl-stealin' can't be done twice. Was
you drinkin' or locoed or what?"

"Beasley, he was giving you the double-cross," cut in Bo Rayner's cool
voice.

The rancher stared speechlessly at her, then at Anson, then at Wilson,
and last at Riggs, when his brown visage shaded dark with rush of purple
blood. With one lunge he knocked Riggs flat, then stood over him with a
convulsive hand at his gun.

"You white-livered card-sharp! I've a notion to bore you.... They told
me you had a deal of your own, an' now I believe it."

"Yes--I had," replied Riggs, cautiously getting up. He was ghastly. "But
I wasn't double-crossin' you. Your deal was to get the girl away from
home so you could take possession of her property. An' I wanted her."

"What for did you fetch the sister, then?" demanded Beasley, his big jaw
bulging.

"Because I've a plan to--"

"Plan hell! You've spoiled my plan an' I've seen about enough of you."
Beasley breathed hard; his lowering gaze boded an uncertain will toward
the man who had crossed him; his hand still hung low and clutching.

"Beasley, tell them to get my horse. I want to go home," said Bo Rayner.

Slowly Beasley turned. Her words enjoined a silence. What to do with her
now appeared a problem.

"I had nothin' to do with fetchin' you here an' I'll have nothin' to do
with sendin' you back or whatever's done with you," declared Beasley.

Then the girl's face flashed white again and her eyes changed to fire.

"You're as big a liar as Riggs," she cried, passionately. "And you're
a thief, a bully who picks on defenseless girls. Oh, we know your game!
Milt Dale heard your plot with this outlaw Anson to steal my sister. You
ought to be hanged--you half-breed greaser!"

"I'll cut out your tongue!" hissed Beasley.

"Yes, I'll bet you would if you had me alone. But these outlaws--these
sheep-thieves--these tools you hire are better than you and Riggs....
What do you suppose Carmichael will do to you? Carmichael! He's my
sweetheart--that cowboy. You know what he did to Riggs. Have you brains
enough to know what he'll do to you?"

"He'll not do much," growled Beasley. But