t every wagon was loaded high with alfalfa, while what
were looked for were wagon-loads of flour and feed.

McLean wormed his way past Phil and along to Jim.

"Dommit,--we're fooled!" he whispered angrily.

"Deevil the fool! Get back, Mack,--get back!"

"But it's alfalfa they've got. You canna risk holding them up when
maybe the bunch we're after are comin' along hauf a mile ahin'."

Jim bit his lip. This was something he had not reckoned on.

All at once his knowledge of Scottish History came to his aid.

"Something tells me they're the crowd we're after," he answered in a
low voice. "And we've got them--every mother's son o' them. Lord sake,
Mack! I'm surprised at ye. You a Scot and you canna remember the
takin' o' Linlithgow Castle! What was under the hay-carts then,
laddie?--what? but good, trusty highlanders. And what's under the
alfalfa now but good feed and flour that'll show in your next Profit
and Loss Account in red figures if you don't recover it. It's a fine
trick, but it is too thin.

"Go back! Signal the others to hold them up at all costs."

And McLean went back, bewildered but as nearly convinced as a Scot can
be who has not the logical proof right under his nose.

Slowly the teams came straggling up the incline, coming nearer and
nearer the men in ambush, until the latter could see clearly that
every driver was a half-breed and that every man of them had a
rifle across his knees. When they were well within the line, the
preconcerted signal--Howden's rifle--rang out.

Taking chances, the deputy chief sprang out into the centre of the
road and shouted, covering the leader. Three men on one side and three
on the other sprang up and covered six of the drivers.

Some of the half-breeds immediately threw up their hands, taken
completely by surprise. But a shot, fired by one of the uncovered
drivers, sang out and big McLean dropped with a bullet through his
thigh.

Howden sprang on to the first wagon, knocked the driver over, kicked
his rifle aside and climbed right on top of the load, bringing down
the man who shot McLean as neatly as could be with his revolver.

That ended what little fight there was in the gang. The half-breeds
had no chance, with their horses getting excited and their heavy loads
beginning to back on them down-hill.

In a short time, they were all unarmed and secured. McLean and the
wounded half-breed were made comfortable on top of some alfalfa, the
other seven drivers w