anythin' o' Green?'
`Not a damn whisper,' replied Ginger. `Reckon he's jumped the reservation this time.'
`Well, it ain't no loss--we don't want no darn outlaws cavortin' round here,' returned Leeming.
`Mebbe he is an outlaw, but he's a man, an' I'd sooner have him oack o' me than most o' the fellers who're huntin' him,' retorted Ginger hotly, and wondered why his reply made the cattleman smile.
At the bunkhouse they needed no introduction and found a hearty welcome, being known as good men, but they got chaffed.
`This outfit is gettin' some brainy,' observed Lucky Lomas. `Three 'Wise heads' at one gather; Old Simon is shore losin' his intellects.'
`An' the Frying Pan is shore gettin' what it needs,' grinned Ginger, as he dumped his saddle, slid into an empty seat and reached for the nearest dish, an example his friends lost no time in following.
`How's the Old Man makin' it?' asked Dirk presently, when the newcomers had taken the edge off their by no means small appetites. Ginger, remembering Snap's injunction, shook his head.
I ain't seen him myself, but Snap says he's mortal bad,' he replied. `That feller Tarman's actin' as if he owned the whole shootin' manch a'ready.'
The foreman grunted. `Mebbe Job'll have a word to say about that,' he said, `an' I reckon he can say it with a chorus, eh, boys?'
The response was unanimous and had Tarman been there to hear it he would certainly have been less self- satisfied; the Frying Pan outfit, with its whole-hearted admiration for its irascible boss, was a tough problem, and with the help of the Y Z boys was certain no give a good account of itself.
`That misfit of a marshal still outlaw-huntin'?' asked Charlie, and when Ginger nodded, he went on, `He came prancin' round here yestiddy, lookin' for Green. My ghost, yu oughtta heard the Old Man lace into him; some o' the things he said would've raised blisters on most men.'
`An' Tonk was hoppin' mad but he didn't dare pull his gun,' supplemented Woods. `He stood there with his own men grinnin' at him, babblin' about his representin' the law. 'Yu?' yells Job. 'The law's sunk pretty low if it's gotta be represented by an ugly, busted-down whisky-keg like yu. Hit the trail mighty brisk or the law'll be shy o' the poorest marshal that ever noted a badge.' Tonk gave him a black look an' says, 'I'll not forget this, Leeming.' The Old Man laughed in his face, an' says, 'Which you'd better not, if yu want to live,' an' the marshal slunk off like a whipped dog.'
`Job shore has got a poisonous tongue bun he's white to his toenails,' commented Lucky.
With the disappearance of the last cup of coffee a move was made to the corral and Dirk began to apportion the day's work. The roping and saddling of mounts was in full swing when Dirty, with a shout and a waving arm, turned all eyes on the horizon.
'There's a visitor a-comin' an' he's shore fannin' it,' he exclaimed.
Far out on the plain they could see a horseman, bent low in the saddle, heading for the ranch at full speed. Leeming, who had also seen the approaching rider, now joined the group at the corral.
`Looks like Snap,' said Ginger. `He allus crouches in the saddle when he's goin' fast--claims it helps the hoss by decreasin' the wind resistance. Wonder what's up?'
`P'raps he's downed Tarman an' they're after him,' surmised one of the Frying Pan boys.
`Snap ain't the runnin' kind--he'd stay an' shoot it out with 'em,' Leeming said.
A few breathless minutes, and the pony, a savage-eyed bunch of nerves and steel wire slid to a stop in their midst, sending the grey dust flying. As Ginger had guessed, the newcomer was Lunt. He got down, trailed the reins and turned to Leeming.
`Howdy, Job? Miss Norry here?'
`Ain't seen her,' replied Leeming. `Why?'
`She went out ridin' yestiddy afternoon an' never come back. She didn't go to town 'cause I've been there to see, an' so I reckoned she musta come here. Look's like somethin's happened to her.'
`Hell's bells ! What's come to this damn country?' cried Leemifig, his face suddenly scarlet with passion. `What do yu reckon has happened to her?'
`How do I know?' replied Snap quietly. `She was ridin' Blue, an' the hoss may have turned ugly--yu never can tell with these outlaw hosses. Or she may have met up with 'Paches or rustlers. I'll gamble a month's pay she ain't stayin' away from the Old Man of her own free will.'
`Yo're shoutin',' said Job. `By heavens, if I find a feller that's dared to lay a finger on that girl I'll scalp him alive!' He glared at the men around him and suddenly became aware that they were doing nothing. `What are yu gapin' at me for, yu goggle-eyed misfits?' he yelled. `Get yore hosses an' some grub, an' put a jerk in it. No more work'll be done on this ranch till the girl is found. Comb every mile o' the blasted country. Yo're in charge, Dirk. I'm goin' over to the Y Z to have a chat with Mr. Tarman; report there to me.'
He turned and went back to the ranch-house, leaving his grinning outfit to prepare for the search, which it did with no further loss of time. Food, weapons, and horses were soon secured, and the men split up into parties and started in different directions.
`Ain't he a shinin' wonder?' confided Lucky to the smiling Y Z men. `There ain't another chap in the Territory we'd take nhat line o' talk from an' he knows it, cuss him.'
The object of this compliment--for such it was--did not trouble any more about them; they had their job, and he knew it would be thoroughly done. He himself went straight to the room where Green and Larry were passing the time wrangling over a game of crib. The impressions caused by his news were in odd contrast. Larry was instantly all excitement and anger, while his companion sat silent, only the tightened jaw muscles and narrowed eyes telling that he had heard.
`What we goin' to do?' asked the younger man, who was striding up and down the room.
`Yu might try settin' down an' shuttin' yore face for a start,' said his friend sardonically. `Yo're actin' like a scared hen.'
`Yu ain't actin' at all--that's why I'm askin',' retorted the other hotly, but he nevertheless took the hint.
`What d'yu make of it?' asked Job.
`I figure it's Tarman,' replied the outlaw slowly. `Mebbe he thinks he can crowd Simon into concludin' the sale, or he's forcin' the girl to marry him. There's another possibility--it may be a ruse to skin yore ranch o' folks an' pull off a big raid. Yu sent all yore boys on the hunt?'
`Every darn one barrin' the cook,' Leeming said. `That last's a chance I gonta take. I'm leaving for the Y Z now; too bad yu fellers can't take a hand.'
`We're aimin' to,' Green said. `Where'd yu cache our hosses?'
`In the old stable at the end o' this place--it ain't been used for years. There's a door into it from the house. Take anythin' yu needs.'
It was characteristic of the man that he asked no questions as to their movements and made no attempt to dissuade them; in local phraseology, it was a case of letting every man skin his own meat.
No sooner had he gone than the others followed. Packing up a supply of food, they found their mounts, and by keeping the ranch-house between themselves and the bunkhouse got away unobserved by the solitary cook, who was enjoying an unlooked-for holiday smoking and reading in his bunk. Not until they were clear away did Larry ask where they were going.
`We'll ride straight to the Crossed Dumb-bell. If we find she's there, yu can fetch Job an' his boys an' we'll clean up the bunch.'
The younger man had no objections to offer and they crossed the intervening Y Z range at a good speed, headed again for the trail which skirted the Sandy Parlour desert. They passed groups of cattle but saw no riders, and the line-house was deserned. Green smiled grimly.
`Looks like they ain't afraid o' warwhoop rustlers no more,' he commented. `All the same, Job shouldn't 'a' left the Frying Pan wide open; Tarman ain't the kind to miss a chance like that.'
`Huh! We know where to find the cows anyways,' said his companion. `We'll get 'em back when the showdown comes, yu bet, yu.'
`An' it won't be long now,' Green responded. `If Tarman has Miss Norry, he's overplayed his hand. Even Hatchett's won't stand for that, an' Job has friends there too.'
They pressed steadily on, mile after mile, keeping for the most part to the trail used by the rustlers; only now and then they saved distance by leaving it and forcing their way through a wood or brush-filled gully which was
