“I thought I'd ridden some tough trails in my time, but this country ce'tainly takes the cake,” Fraser said admiringly, as his gaze swept the horizon. “It puts it over anything I ever met up with. Ain't that right, Teddy hawss?” The girl flushed with pleasure at his praise. She was mountain bred, and she loved the country of the great peaks. They descended the valley, crossed the road, and in an open grassy spot just beyond, came plump upon four men who had unsaddled to eat lunch. The meeting came too abruptly for Arlie to avoid it. One glance told her that they were deputies from Gimlet Butte. Without the least hesitation she rode forward and gave them the casual greeting of cattleland. Fraser, riding beside her, nodded coolly, drew to a halt, and lit a cigarette. “Found him yet, gentlemen?” he asked. “No, nor we ain't likely to, if he's reached this far,” one of the men answered. “It would be some difficult to collect him here,” the Texan admitted impartially. “Among his friends,” one of the deputies put in, with a snarl. Fraser laughed easily. “Oh, well, we ain't his enemies, though he ain't very well known in the Cedar Mountain country. What might he be like, pardner?” “Hasn't he lived up here long?” asked one of the men, busy with some bacon over a fire. “They say not.” “He's a heavy-set fellow, with reddish hair; not so tall as you, I reckon, and some heavier. Was wearing chaps and gauntlets when he made his getaway. From the description, he looks something like you, I shouldn't wonder.” Fraser congratulated himself that he had had the foresight to discard as many as possible of these helps to identification before he was three miles from Gimlet Butte. Now he laughed pleasantly. “Sure he's heavier than me, and not so tall.” “It would be a good joke, Bud, if they took you back to town for this man,” cut in Arlie, troubled at the direction the conversation was taking, but not obviously so. “I ain't objecting any, sis. About three days of the joys of town would sure agree with my run-down system,” the Texan answered joyously. “When you cowpunchers do get in, you surely make Rome howl,” one of the deputies agreed, with a grin. “Been in to the Butte lately?” The Texan met his grin. “It ain't been so long.” “Well, you ain't liable to get in again for a while,” Arlie said emphatically. “Come on, Bud, we've got to be moving.” “Which way is Dead Cow Creek?” one of the men called after them. Fraser pointed in the direction from which he had just come. After they had ridden a hundred yards, the girl laughed aloud her relief at their escape. “If they go the way you pointed for Dead Cow Creek, they will have to go clear round the world to get to it. We're headed for the creek now.” “A fellow can't always guess right,” pleaded the Texan. “If he could, what a fiend he would be at playing the wheel! Shall I go back and tell him I misremembered for a moment where the creek is?”