trouble
came to-night; I let him go."

"Young feller," growled Glendin, "you ain't been in town a long while,
but I've heard a pile too much about you already. What you mean by
takin' the law into your own hands?"

"Wait," said Nash, his keen eyes on the two, "I guess I understand."

"Let's have it, then."

Still the steady eyes of Nash passed from Sally Fortune to Bard and back
again.

"This feller bein' a tenderfoot, he don't understand our ways; maybe he
thinks the range is a bit freer than it is."

"That's the trouble," answered Glendin, "he thinks too damned much."

"And does quite a pile besides thinkin'," murmured Nash, but too low for
the others to hear it.

He hesitated, and then, as if making up his mind by a great effort:
"There ain't no use blamin' him; better let it drop, Glendin."

"Nothin' else to do, Steve; but it's funny Sally let him do it."

"It is," said Nash with emphasis, "but then women is pretty funny in
lots of ways. Ready to start, Bard?"

"All ready."

"S'long, Sally."

"Good-night, Miss Fortune."

"Evenin', boys. We'll be lookin' for you back in Eldara to-morrow night,
Bard."

And her eyes fixed with meaning on Nash.

"Certainly," answered the other, "my business ought not to take longer
than that."

"I'll take him by the shortest cut," said Nash, and the two went out to
their horses.

They had difficulty in riding the trail side by side, for though the
roan was somewhat rested by the delay at Eldara it was impossible to
keep him up with Bard's prancing piebald, which sidestepped at every
shadow. Yet the tenderfoot never allowed his mount to pass entirely
ahead of the roan, but kept checking him back hard, turning toward Nash
with an apology each time he surged ahead. It might have been merely
that he did not wish to precede the cowpuncher on a trail which he did
not know. It might have been something quite other than this which made
him consistently keep to the rear; Nash felt certain that the second
possibility was the truth.

In that case his work would be doubly hard. From all that he had seen
the man was dangerous--the image of the tame puma returned to him again
and again. He could not see him plainly through the dark of the night,
but he caught the sway of the body and recognized a perfect
horsemanship, not a Western style of riding, but a good one no matter
where it was learned. He rode as if he were sewed to the back of the
horse, and, as old William Drew