aying for him!"

There was a sudden spurt of flame and smoke and the club flew several
yards, struck by three bullets. Humble hopped around the corner holding
his hand, his words too profane for repetition.

Smoke filtered from The Orphan's holster and eyes opened wide in surprise
at the wonderful quickness of his gunplay, for no one had seen it. All
there was was smoke.

"Good God!" breathed Blake, staring at the marksman, who had stepped
forward and was explaining to Humble. "It's a good thing Shields was
square!" he muttered.

"Did you see that?" asked Bud of Jim in whispered awe. "And I thought _I_
was some beans with a six-shooter!"

"No, but I heard it--was they one or six?" replied Jim.

"I didn't know it was you, Humble," explained The Orphan. "I thought it
was the Chink laying for the dog."

"---- ----! Good for you!" cried Humble in sudden friendliness. "You're
all right, Orphant, but will you be sure next time? That stung like
blazes," he said as he held out his hand. "I can always tell a white
man by the way he treats a dog. If all men were as good as dogs this world
would be a blamed sight nicer place to live in, and don't you forget it."

"Still going to take Lightning with you, Humble?" asked Bud.

"No, I ain't going to take Lightning with me!" snapped Humble. "I'm going
to leave him right here on the ranch," here his voice arose to a roar,
"and if any sing-song, rope-haired, animated hash-wrastler gets gay while
I'm gone, I'll send him to his heathen hell!"

"Come on, boys," said Blake, snapping his watch shut. "Time to get going."

"Glory be!" exulted Silent, executing a few fancy steps toward the corral,
his companions close behind, with the exception of The Orphan, who had
gone into the bunk house for a minute.

As they whooped their way toward the town Blake noticed that a gold
pin glittered at the knot of the new recruit's neck-kerchief, and he
chuckled when he recalled the warning he had given to the sheriff. He
shrewdly guessed that the apricot pie and the rest of the feast were
quite subordinated by The Orphan to the girl who had given him the pin.

Bud suddenly turned in his saddle and pointed to a jackrabbit which
bounded away across the plain like an animated shadow.

"Now, if Humble's bloodhound was only here," he said, "we would rope that
jack and make the cur fight it. It would be a fine fight, all right," he
laughed.

"You go to the devil," grunted Humble, and he started a