acre of weeds. If he is all right yu'd better vamoose this range,
for there won't be no hole for yu to crawl into next time. What friends
yu have left will have to tote yu off an' plant yu," he finished with
emphasis. He drove the horses outside, and, after severing the bonds on
his prisoners, lined them up.

"Yu," he began, indicating all but Mr. Travennes, "yu amble right smart
toward Canada," pointing to the north. "Keep a-going till yu gets far
enough away so a Colt won't find yu." Here he grinned with delight as he
saw his Sharp's rifle in its sheath on his saddle and, drawing it
forth, he put away his Colts and glanced at the trio, who were already
industriously plodding northward. "Hey!" he shouted, and when they
sullenly turned to see what new idea he had found he gleefully waved his
rifle at them and warned them further: "This is a Sharp's an' it's good
for half a mile, so don't stop none too soon."

Having sent them directly away from their friends so they could not have
him "potted" on the way back, he mounted his broncho and indicated to
Mr. Travennes that he, too, was to ride, watching that that person did
not make use of the Winchester which Mr. Connors was foolish enough to
carry around on his saddle. Winchesters were Mr. Cassidy's pet aversion
and Mr. Connors' most prized possession, this difference of opinion
having upon many occasions caused hasty words between them. Mr. Connors,
being better with his Winchester than Mr. Cassidy was with his Sharp's,
had frequently proved that his choice was the wiser, but Mr. Cassidy
was loyal to the Sharp's and refused to be convinced. Now, however,
the Winchester became pregnant with possibilities and, therefore, Mr.
Travennes rode a few yards to the left and in advance, where the rifle
was in plain sight, hanging as it did on the right of Mr. Connors'
saddle, which Mr. Travennes graced so well.

The journey back to town was made in good time and when they came to
the buildings Mr. Cassidy dismounted and bade his companion do likewise,
there being too many corners that a fleeing rider could take advantage
of. Mr. Travennes felt of his bumps and did so, wishing hard things
about Mr. Cassidy.

CHAPTER XV. The Penalty

While Mr. Travennes had been entertained in the manner narrated, Mr.
Connors had passed the time by relating stale jokes to the uproarious
laughter of his extremely bored audience, who had heard the aged efforts
many times since they had firs