ere ain't no need ter see a trail hyer," replied Ike Watson. "This
yere way is a blind pocket fer all o' these three miles. Ye couldn't go
no different if ye tried. Byme-by, when we come out on Sampson's flats,
we'll look for the trail ag'in."

"We ought to catch up to those men before we reach the flats," remarked
Allen. "They must be tired out by that climb."

"We ain't fur off," rejoined Watson. "Jes' keep silent half an hour
longer, an' we'll----"

He broke off short, reigned in his steed, and pointed ahead.

Allen looked eagerly in the direction. Under the spreading branches of a
giant pine rested two men. Not far from them two horses were hoppled.
The men looked thoroughly tired. Both were smoking pipes and leaning
against the tree with their eyes closed.

"Let us dismount and tiptoe our way to them," whispered Allen. "If we
secure their horses first they will have no chance to get away from us."

"A good plan, lad," returned Watson, in an equally low tone. "Supposin'
ye an' I leave our nags with Mr. Urner?"

This was agreed upon, and after dismounting the horses were led behind
some heavy brush by the young man from the east.

Then, with their weapons ready for use, Allen and old Ike Watson stole
cautiously forward to where were grazing the animals belonging to the
two bad men from Jordan Creek.

Allen and the old hunter from Gold Fork went about their work as
silently as possible. The horses were somewhat in the rear, and so they
made a detour, coming up behind the dozing men as softly as twin
shadows.

The animals reached, the next thing was to release them. This was
speedly accomplished, and it was Allen who led them off, while Ike
Watson still remained on guard with his trusty gun ready should the
occasion arise to make use of the firearm.

In less than three minutes the young ranchman was back, having left the
captured animals in Noel's care.

"Now, what's to do?" he questioned.

"Maybe we hed better git a few ropes ready, in case we want ter bind
'em," began Ike Watson, but ere this idea could be put into execution
one of the men dropped his pipe, and the hot tobacco, falling on his
hand, brought him upright with a start. He opened his eyes, and with a
loud exclamation, which awoke his companion, leaped to his feet.

"What does this mea----" he began.

"Hands up, ye rascal!" ordered Ike Watson, so sternly that instantly
both arms were raised high overhead. The horse thief, for the man was