“Thar ye go; thar ye go! When a gal gits in love she loses her sense. And that’s what ails ye. I don’t object ter ye thinkin’ proper good and strong of ther man ye expect ter marry; but at ther same time, hoss sense is hoss sense, and not somethin’ diff’runt. I say thet you ought to go to ther town, and thet yer ought ter have gone when Pawnee Bill went. And I say, furder----” He was not given an opportunity to say anything further. Old Nebuchadnezzar, his homely, shaggy-headed horse, thrust out his nose, scented into the bushes, and then gave a jump and a squeal. It was a warning; old Nebby was a veritable watchdog. But the warning came too late. Before Nomad could seize his rifle, three men burst through the bushes, and each covered him with a revolver. They were Black John and two of his men, and two more came in sight a minute later. “Surrender!” Nomad was almost too chagrined for words. He knew that he was to blame for permitting these men to sneak on him undiscovered in that way, and hold him up at the point of the revolver. Nebuchadnezzar bared his greenish teeth, and in another moment would have been at the throat of the nearest man. “Whoa, Nebby!” Nomad yelled. He had seen the man pitch up a revolver, and knew that Nebby would get the bullet. He knew, too, that a bullet would be his own portion if he made an attempt to run. “Ketched nappin’!” he said, lowering his rifle. “Yer aire too many fur me. But if I hadn’t been a fool, ’twouldn’t happened.” Lena was too startled and too frightened for words. She stared at the masked outlaws, her eyes big and bright, her face turning white. “Drop your gun!” Black John commanded. Nomad looked at him hard, and let the rifle slide to the ground. “I’m a fool, but I don’t skeer easy,” he said; “and I know who ye aire, old hoss, which I’ll say it if I never speak another word. Why don’t you take that devil’s han’k’cher off’n yer face?” Black John came forward, holding his revolver in readiness. “Keep him covered!” he called out. “Where’s the rest of your crowd?” “Yer aire lookin’ at ther whole of them,” said Nomad. “Me and my daughter, hyar.” “Oh, your daughter! Where’s Cody and Lillie?” “I hesertates ter say, not knowin’.” “They were with you a few moments ago. I reckon they’ve gone on toward the pass. Well, we’ll bag ’em there.” “They ain’t sech fools as me,” said Nomad bitterly. “When I git through with this trail, I’m goin’ ter quit, and retire ter some quiet home fer men thet has lost their senses. If I’d had mine, you wouldn’t ketched me like this. But it’s all right; I’m old, and ain’t got too many years in this world, and you can’t skeer me. But I does ax yer to be easy wi’ ther gal.” “Search her,” said Black John, to one of his men. The masked bandit came forward. “You’ve got some em’rulds,” said this rascal. “Fork ’em over, and save yerself trouble.” “But I haven’t them!” she protested. “Fork ’em over!” he shouted.