“Ther hull thing sounds like er frame-up, from start ter finish,” dropped in old Nomad. “Thet Jerry Benner must er had a powerful head ter set a thing like thet ter goin’.” “That head of his will get Lige Benner into trouble, one of these days,” averred Wild Bill. “Oh,” exclaimed Nate Dunbar, pushing back from the table, “I was forgetting something.” His hand went into an inside pocket and he brought out a little, plush-covered box. “I didn’t finish all the business that took me to Hackamore,” he went on, “but I did manage to wind up the most important part of it. That’s for you, Hattie.” A cry of delight broke from the girl when she saw the diamond. “Whenever I look at this ring, Nate,” she said, slipping it on her finger and holding it where the sun struck vari-colored hues from the stone, “I shall always remember your peril in Hackamore, and the gallant friends who saved you from the plots of Lige Benner.” “Amen to that,” added Dick Perry. CHAPTER XXIII. RED THUNDERBOLT. Buffalo Bill was in earnest when he said that he could not leave the Brazos while Red Steve was at large, and, after a day’s rest, the scout set out for Hackamore with his trapper pard. It was his intention to call on Sheriff Bloom and learn what, if anything, he knew about Steve. The pards were riding quietly along the trail when Nomad suddenly drew rein. “I’m a Piegan, Buffler,” he howled, “ef it ain’t thet thar Thunderbolt critter, ther demon o’ ther range, ther big medicine steer thet kain’t be captured er killed. Wisht we had er rifle!” Thunderbolt was an outcast. In all that cattle country of the Brazos every man’s hand was against him. Bred on the wild _llano_, he was early compelled to shift for himself, growing up into a wild and untrammeled freedom. He rebelled against authority and asked only to be let alone. Grass and water were free. He took his forage wherever he found it. In the winter he starved more or less, fighting out the “northers” under the lee of hills, or in the leafless shelters of the Brazos thickets; but in the spring and summer he roamed at will, grazing wherever fancy led him and sniffing the air and watching keen-eyed for human foes. When he was three years old, this maverick fell in with a bunch of cattle from one of the Brazos ranches. He experienced a desire for brute companionship, and when the cowboys came he was caught in a gully and hurried in the direction of the branding pen. A rope was thrown. Imbued with the strength of a huge body and the unfettered years, he snapped the rope in twain, overset a horse and threw a cowboy sprawling. Then he raced for the great out-doors, bent only on getting clear of these human foes, with their ropes, and their fires, and their branding irons.