“Gag him so he can't holler his head off, and then take him along--when I've got my money back,” Bud panted. “Pop, you're about as appreciative as a buck Injun.” “Going to be hard to pack him so he'll ride,” Jerry observed quizzically when Pop, bound and gagged, lay glaring at them behind the bunk-house. “He don't quite balance your two grips, Bud. And we do need hat grub.” “You bring the grub--I'll take Pop--” Bud stopped in the act of lifting the old man and listened. Honey's voice was calling Pop, with embellishments such Bud would never have believed a part of Honey's vocabulary. From her speech, she was coming after him, and Pop's jaws worked frantically behind Bud's handkerchief. Jerry tilted his head toward the luggage he had made a second trip for, picked up Pop, clamped his hand over the mouth that was trying to betray them, and slipped away through the brush glancing once over his shoulder to make sure that Bud was following him. They reached the safe screen of branches and stopped there for a minute, listening to Honey's vituperations and her threats of what she would do to Pop if he did not come up and start a fire. She stopped, and hoofbeats sounded from the main road. Dave and his men were coming. In his heart Bud thanked Little Lost for that hidden path through the bushes. He heard Dave asking Honey what was the matter with her, heard the unwomanly reply of the girl, heard her curse Pop for his neglect of the kitchen stove at that hour of the morning. Heard, too, her questioning of Dave. Had they found Bud, or Marian? “If you got 'em together, and didn't string 'em both up to the nearest tree--” Bud bit his lip and went on, his face aflame with rage at the brutishness of a girl he had half respected. “Honey!” he whispered contemptuously. “What a name for that little beast!” At the rocks Eddie was waiting with Stopper, upon whom they hurriedly packed the beds and Bud's luggage. They spoke in whispers when they spoke at all, and to insure the horse's remaining quiet Eddie had tied a cotton rope snugly around its muzzle. “I'll take Pop,” Bud whispered, but Jerry shook his head and once more shouldered the old fellow as he would carry a bag of grain. So they slipped back down the trail, took a turn which Bud did not know, and presently Bud found that Jerry was keeping straight on. Bud made an Indian sign on the chance that Jerry would understand it, and with his free hand Jerry replied. He was taking Pop somewhere. They were to wait for him when they had reached the horses. So they separated for a space. “This is sure a great country for hideouts, Mr. Birnie,” Eddie ventured when they had put half a mile between themselves and Little Lost, and had come upon Smoky, Sunfish and Eddie's horse feeding quietly in a tiny, spring-watered basin half surrounded with rocks. “If you know the country you can keep dodgin' sheriffs all your life--if you just have grub enough to last.”