"I see the _Sentinel_ hints that Mr. Curly Flandrau had better be lynched," he jeered. "The _Sentinel_ don't always hit the bull's-eye, Soapy," returned the young man evenly. "It thinks I belong to the Soapy Stone outfit, but we know I haven't that honor." "There's no such outfit--not in the sense he means," snapped the man on the lounge. "What are your plans? Where you going to lie low? Picked a spot yet?" "I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on the way," Curly assured him gaily. Soapy frowned at him under the heavy eyebrows that gave him so menacing an effect. "Better come back with me to the ranch till you look around." "Suits me right down to the ground if it does you." Someone came whistling into the house and opened the door of the room. He was a big lank fellow with a shotgun in his hands. "From Missouri" was stamped all over his awkward frame. He stood staring at his unexpected guests. His eyes, clashing with those of Stone, grew chill and hard. "So you're back here again, are you?" he asked, looking pretty black. Stone's lip smile mocked him. "I don't know how you guessed it, but I sure am here." "Didn't I tell you to keep away from the Bar 99--you and your whole cursed outfit?" "Seems to me you did mention something of that sort. But how was I to know whether you meant it unless I came back to see?" Laura came into the room and ranged herself beside her father. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm. "He got caught in one of your bear traps and this young man brought him here to wait for the doctor," she explained. "Hmp!" The Missourian stared without civility at his guest, turned on his heel, and with his daughter beside him marched out of the room. He could not decently tell Stone to leave while he was under the care of a doctor, but he did not intend to make him welcome. London was a blunt grizzled old fellow who said what he thought even about the notorious Soapy Stone. "We'll pull our freights right away, Curly," Stone announced as soon as his host had gone. The young man went to the stable and saddled Keno. While he was tightening the cinch a shadow fell across his shoulder. He did not need to look round to see whose it was. "I'm so glad you're going to the horse ranch. You will look out for Sam. I trust you. I don't know why, but I have the greatest confidence in you," the owner of the shadow explained sweetly. Curly smiled blandly over his shoulder at her. "Fine! That's a good uplifting line of talk, Miss Laura. Now will you please explain why you're feeding me this particular bunch of taffy? What is it I'm to do for you?" She blushed and laughed at the same time. Her hand came from behind her back. In it was a letter. "But I do mean it, every word of it." "That's to be my pay for giving Master Sam his billy doo, is it?" "How did you guess? It is a letter to Sam." "How did I guess it? Shows I'm sure a wiz, don't it?" She saw her father coming and handed him the letter quickly.