the game to that, and we can both pull it down the
creek to the river and then over to the burn. It won't be worth while
bringing a pony out to do it."

Both set to work, and in a few minutes the deer was fastened to the
branch and slid into the creek. The bottom was sandy, and the water
made the load slip along readily. The lads had just crossed the burn
with their drag when a gunshot rang out, coming from the direction of
the ranch home.

"Listen!" ejaculated Dan. "A shot from the house! What can that mean?"

He dropped his hold on the branch and leaped forward, unslinging the
_escopeta_ as he did so. For a moment Ralph hesitated, not wishing to
leave his game again, but then, as his brother disappeared into the
belt of timber hiding the cabin from their view, he also dropped his
hold, feeling that, even though a boy, his presence might be needed
elsewhere.

When Dan reached the clearing about the ranch home he found his father
in the doorway, rifle in hand, gazing anxiously in one direction and
another. Mr. Radbury was tall and thin, and constant exposure to the
sun had browned him considerably. A glance sufficed to show what he
really was, a Southern gentleman of the old school, despite the rough
life he was at present leading.

"Dan!" cried the parent, gladly. "I am happy to see you are safe. Where
is Ralph?"

"He is just behind me, father. But what's the trouble? Has anything
happened here while we have been away?"

"I hardly think so, but the Indians are around,--I saw two of them
directly across the river, and half a dozen at the big tree ford, all
Comanches, and several of them in their war-paint. I was afraid you had
had trouble with them."

"No, we've had trouble with somebody else," answered Dan, but before he
could go any further Ralph appeared. The tale about the deer and Hank
Stiger was soon told, Mr. Radbury listening with close attention.

"And do you think I did wrong, father?" questioned the youngest
Radbury, as he concluded his narrative.

"No, I can't say that, Ralph," was the grave answer. "But I am afraid
it will make us more trouble all around. Stiger and Bison Head are
intimate friends, and if the Indians are going on the war-path again,
the half-breed may direct an attack upon us. It was a great mistake to
speak about that stolen horse. We can't prove that Stiger took it,
although I am morally sure he was the guilty party."

After a short talk, it was decided that Mr. Radbury shou