brush under Jasper's feet.

"Will you stop now?" yelled Mangle.

Allen was in a quandary. He did not wish to be shot, and yet----

But the young man was not called on to solve the dreadful question.
While he hesitated there was a loud shout from some distance to his
right, and looking up the rocks he saw to his great joy Ike Watson, the
hunter, sitting astride of his horse, rifle in hand.

"Wall, wall!" shouted the old man. "And what's the row, Allen, I want to
know?"

"Horse thieves, Ike! Save me!" was the quick reply. "There are three of
them after me!"

"Saul Mangle, as I'm a nateral born sinner, and Darry Nodley and Jeff
Jones! Wall! wall! wall! Turn about, before it is too late, ye
sarpints!"

The loud cry from Ike Watson caused the gang of horse thieves to come to
a sudden halt. Every one of them knew old Ike Watson only too well--knew
him for a man of quaint humor, but with a sense of justice that no one
dared to question.

"Hang the measly luck!" muttered Saul Mangle. "There's Ike Watson!"

"Then the jig's up for the present, and we had better vamoose!" returned
Nodley.

"Clar out, do ye hear me?" yelled Ike Watson to the crowd of three.
"Don't wait for me to git riled up."

"Come on!" whispered Saul Mangle, with a scowl, and like magic the trio
of villains turned about and disappeared down a side trail, leaving poor
exhausted Allen safe in friendly hands at last.

"By the grasshoppers of Kansas, but ye look fagged out, Allen!"
exclaimed old Ike Watson as he sprang down and caught Allen in his arms.
"What's the matter with ye, boy?"

"I've had an awful experience, Ike," replied the young ranchman as soon
as he could recover sufficiently to speak. "I've been underground
several miles, and I haven't had a mouthful to eat since yesterday
morning!"

"Gee shoo, Allen! Wall! wall! wall! If I didn't know ye so well I'd be
apt ter think ye war tellin' me a fairy tale. But I allow as how
Granville Winthrop's son couldn't lie if he tried."

"I speak the truth, Ike. But where are those villains?"

"Gone, boy, gone. They knowed better nor to stay whar Ike Watson was,
ho! ho!"

"They are horse thieves, and ought to be locked up."

"Thet Saul Mangle ought to be strung up, ye mean. And Darry Nodley and
that coon, Jeff Jones, ain't much better. But they are gone now."

"Well, I have Paul's horse and Chet's, too, anyway," returned Allen,
with a slight smile of satisfaction.

"Whar's your own horse?"