Now, Pop had without doubt been a man difficult to trick in his youth,
but he was old, and he was excited, tickled over his easy triumph. He
turned to see what was wrong with Jerry.

"Look out, Pop, you old fool, You'll bust a blood-vessel if you don't
quiet down," Bud censured mockingly, wresting the gun from the clawing,
struggling old man in his arms. He was surprised at the strength and
agility of Pop, and though he was forcing him backward step by step into
the machine shed, and knew that he was master of the situation, he had
his hands full.

"Wildcats is nothing to Pop when he gets riled," Jerry grinned, coming
up on the run. "I kinda expected something like this. What yuh want done
with him, Bud?"

"Gag him so he can't holler his head off, and then take him along--when
I've got my money back," Bud panted. "Pop, you're about as appreciative
as a buck Injun."

"Going to be hard to pack him so he'll ride," Jerry observed quizzically
when Pop, bound and gagged, lay glaring at them behind the bunk-house.
"He don't quite balance your two grips, Bud. And we do need hat grub."

"You bring the grub--I'll take Pop--" Bud stopped in the act of
lifting the old man and listened. Honey's voice was calling Pop, with
embellishments such Bud would never have believed a part of Honey's
vocabulary. From her speech, she was coming after him, and Pop's jaws
worked frantically behind Bud's handkerchief.

Jerry tilted his head toward the luggage he had made a second trip for,
picked up Pop, clamped his hand over the mouth that was trying to betray
them, and slipped away through the brush glancing once over his shoulder
to make sure that Bud was following him.

They reached the safe screen of branches and stopped there for a minute,
listening to Honey's vituperations and her threats of what she would do
to Pop if he did not come up and start a fire.

She stopped, and hoofbeats sounded from the main road. Dave and his men
were coming.

In his heart Bud thanked Little Lost for that hidden path through the
bushes. He heard Dave asking Honey what was the matter with her, heard
the unwomanly reply of the girl, heard her curse Pop for his neglect
of the kitchen stove at that hour of the morning. Heard, too, her
questioning of Dave. Had they found Bud, or Marian?

"If you got 'em together, and didn't string 'em both up to the nearest
tree--"

Bud bit his lip and went on, his face aflame with rage at the
brutishness of a girl he