"He's wise to the game!" Jimmy whispered close to Ned's ear, as they all stood and stared at the puncher who held the dead carrier pigeon in his hands. It must have been a great shock for Ally Sloper. For the first time he realized just how suspicion had come to fall upon his head; and with the note which he had sent out fastened to the leg of that same messenger bird in their possession, those in charge of Double Cross Ranch during the absence of the owners knew to a certainty of his guilt. Some movement on the part of the scouts must have told him he was being observed, for he suddenly turned his head and looked straight at them. Ned knew there was danger of the baffled conspirator becoming furiously angry and attempting something wicked. He might be ready to take all sorts of chances, if he could but vent his rage upon those whom he suspected must have been the main cause of his defeat. It happened that Ned was holding his rifle in his hands at the time, being about to clean it, and he instinctively threw the muzzle of it forward, so that he covered the puncher. Although Sloper had known that he was under the ban, and suspicion directed toward him, as yet no one had thought to take his gun away. The weapon hung from his side where it could be reached in a fraction of a second, should an occasion suddenly arise calling for action. Knowing the clever way these cowmen have of using their tools, Ned did not mean that he and his chums should be made victims to the ungovernable rage of a "caught in the trap" schemer. "Hold up your hands, quick now, Sloper!" was what he told the other; and if he had taken a page from the life of a cowboy Ned could not have put his demand in plainer language, for this was the customary salutation of one puncher meeting another whom he had cause to believe had evil designs on his life. The man hesitated at first. He looked on the scouts as tenderfeet, and it galled him terribly to have to submit to being ordered around by a mere boy. But there was something about Ned's way of speaking, not to mention the businesslike air of his frowning rifle, that warned him it would be a pretty risky thing to defy the scout master. Besides, there were three more fellows in khaki close behind Ned, doubtless with other guns that could be brought to bear on him like a flash, if so be he ventured to disobey. And treacherous scoundrel though he might be, Ally Sloper valued his miserable life. So he dropped the bird and elevated both hands above his head, showing that he surrendered to superior force and conditions which he was powerless to change. "Jack!" called out Ned, keeping his eyes riveted on the man and never swerving that threatening rifle a fraction of an inch. "On deck, Ned," came the answer, close to his shoulder.