" cried McGregor, swinging his horse round and setting
spurs.

The horse sprang in response. Jim thought he was going to make it,
when a lariat flew out like a long snake, poised for a second over
Red's head and, in a second more, stretched him on the roadway,
half-choked.

McLean held the rope taut, while Jim and Phil ran in and secured their
prisoner.

"What'n the hell's the matter with you bunch," gasped Red. "Can't a
man go to Vernock when he damned-well wants to?"

"Not always, Red!" answered Jim. "It isn't always healthy to want to
go to Vernock."

"By God!--let me go and I'll take you on one at a time--two at a time
if you like. You, Langford,--I'll fix you for this anyway."

"We're going to fix you first, Rob Roy McGregor O!"

"I pretty near done you in last time, Langford. I'll make good and
sure next time,--you bet!"

"Oh, shut up!" exclaimed Jim, "you're wearing your windpipe out
talking."

They half pulled McGregor and half dragged him to a nearby tree, to
which they tied him securely, divesting him of his knife and other
articles that they considered he might feel constrained to use.

He cursed them roundly, until Jim tied Red's cravat round his mouth.

"Come on, boys! That's good enough! We don't want to take him along.
If we don't hurry up, that bunch may beat us to it yet."

They reached the junction of the two roads without further adventure.
Five minutes later, along came Morrison, Thompson, Deputy Chief Howden
and Blair, with one more--an unrecognised--in their company.

"What did you catch?" asked Jim.

"Just little Stitchy Summers!" replied Howden. "We found him out for a
constitutional, hoofing it for Vernock. Says he does it every morning
early for the good of his health. So we brought him along."

"We found a somnambulist, too," said Jim, "Rob Roy McGregor. We tied
him up at the roadside, in case he might wake up and hurt himself."

"Foxy trick that all the same--one each way to make sure of one
getting through!"

"Say!--you don't suppose they're wise?" asked Morrison.

"Sure they are!"

"But who could give the show away?"

"I'm thinking that sprained ankle of Brenchfield's was a darned
_lame_ excuse," Jim answered. And that was all they could get out of
him on the subject.

It was sufficient, however, to set all of them a-wondering. But no
shadow of suspicion had ever before crossed their minds, and they soon
dismissed the suggestion as one more distorted ridiculous r