She decided that he was trying to flirt with her, and turned the head of her horse to start. "Now your father has pulled his freight, I expect it will be safe to call," he added. The bridle rein tightened. "What nonsense are you saying about my father?" "No news, Miss Cullison; just what everybody is saying, that he has gone to cover on account of the hold-up." A chill fear drenched her heart. "Do you mean the hold-up of the Limited at Tin Cup?" "No, I don't." He looked at her sharply. "Mean to say you haven't heard of the hold-up of the W.& S. Express Company at Saguache?" "No. When was it?" "Tuesday night. The man got away with twenty thousand dollars." "And what has my father to do with that?" she demanded haughtily. A satisfied spleen purred in his voice. "My dear young lady, that is what everyone is asking." "What do you mean? Say it." There was fear as well as anger in her voice. Had her father somehow got into trouble trying to save Sam? "Oh, I'm saying nothing. But what Sheriff Bolt means is that when he gets his handcuffs on Luck Cullison, he'll have the man that can tell him where that twenty thousand is." "It's a lie." He waved his hand airily, as one who declined responsibility in the matter, but his dark, saturnine face sparkled with malice. "Maybe so. Seems to be some evidence, but I reckon he can explain that away--when he comes back. The hold-up dropped a hat with the initials L. C. in the band, since identified as his. He had lost a lot of money at poker. Next day he paid it. He had no money in the bank, but maybe he found it growing on a cactus bush." "You liar!" she panted, eyes blazing. "I'll take that from you, my dear, because you look so blamed pretty when you're mad; but I wouldn't take it from him--from your father, who is hiding out in the hills somewhere." Anger uncurbed welled from her in an inarticulate cry. He had come close to her, and was standing beside the stirrup, one bold hand upon the rein. Her quirt went swiftly up and down, cut like a thin bar of red-hot iron across his uplifted face. He stumbled back, half blind with the pain. Before he could realize what had happened the spur on her little boot touched the side of the pony, and it was off with a bound. She was galloping wildly down the trail toward home. He looked after her, fingers caressing the welt that burned his cheek. "You'll pay for that, Kate Cullison," he said aloud to himself. Anger stung him, but deeper than his rage was a growing admiration. How she had lashed out at him because he had taunted her of her father. By Jove, a girl like that would be worth taming! His cold eyes glittered as he put the bloodstained kerchief in his pocket. She was not through with him yet--not by a good deal. CHAPTER V "AIN'T SHE THE GAMEST LITTLE THOROUGHBRED?" Kate galloped into the ranch plaza around which the buildings were set, slipped from her pony, and ran at once to the telephone. Bob was on a side porch mending a bridle.