f the desert were shattered by no report. At last,
drowsing in the warmth of the sunlit land, the Ranger's eyes closed,
opened, and shut again. He nodded, fell asleep.

When he awakened it was with a shock of dread. His heart died. Four men
were watching him. Two of them had him covered with revolvers. A third
was just removing noiselessly his rifle and six-shooter from reach of
his hand.

He jumped to his feet. The consternation in his eyes showed how
completely he had been caught napping.

One of the men--a long, lank, cross-eyed fellow--laughed mockingly, and
the sound of his mirth was evil.

"Whatta you doin' here?" demanded one whom he recognized as Pete
Dinsmore.

For a moment the Ranger's mind was a blank. He could not make it serve
his needs. Words were out of reach of his tongue. Then, "I'm lost," he
stammered.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes." Out of his confusion one idea stood up imperatively. He must not
betray Jack.

"Where's yore hawss?"

"It--it got away from me."

"When?"

"Last night." It seemed to him that he could keep just one jump ahead of
this dominant man's menacing questions.

"Howcome that?"

"I shot a prairie-hen, and when I got down to get it--I don't know--my
horse got frightened and jerked away. I tried to catch it. The brute
wouldn't let me. Then night came."

"What were you doin' so far from town?" cut in one of the two who were
covering him. He was a short, heavy-set man.

"That's right, Dave. Looks funny to me." Gurley seemed fairly to ooze
malice. "Just happened to drift here to this herd, I reckon. It sure was
yore unlucky day."

Arthur looked from one to another despairingly. He found no hope
anywhere, not even in the expressionless face of Homer Dinsmore, who as
yet had not spoken a word. There came over the boy what he afterward
described as a "gone" feeling. It was the sensation, intensified many
times, felt when an elevator drops from under one in swift descent.

"I--don't know what you mean," he faltered.

"You will," said Gurley brutally.

"Been across the valley to the herd yet?" asked Overstreet, elaborately
careless.

Here was one question Ridley could answer with the truth. He spoke
swiftly, eagerly. "No."

His questioner exchanged looks with Homer Dinsmore and laughed. The
Ranger had betrayed himself. He had been so quick to deny that he had
been near the herd that his anxiety gave him away. They knew he
suspected them of having rustled the stock gra