The range rider lied, loyally. “Nothin’ to that a-tall. What would Jake want to do that for? Would it get him anything if he did? You sure fooled yoreself if that’s what you were thinking.” “Did I?” The eyes of the younger man were on Black, hard, keen, and intent. “Well, that’s exactly what I was thinking. And still am. Subject number two on which we’ll have to agree to disagree.” “Jake’s no bad man runnin’ around gunnin’ men for to see ’em kick. You been readin’ too much Billy the Kid stuff, I shouldn’t wonder.” Tug dropped the second boot on the floor and rose to take off his coat. There came the sound of a shot, the crash of breaking glass. Hollister swayed drunkenly on his feet, groped for the back of a chair, half turned, and slid to the floor beside the bunk. Usually Black’s movements were slow. Now no panther could have leaped for the lamp more swiftly. He blew out the light, crept along the log wall to the window, reached out a hand cautiously, and drew a curtain across the pane through which a bullet had just come. Then, crouching, he ran across the room and took a rifle from the deer’s horns upon which it rested. “Come on, you damn bushwhacker. I’m ready for you,” he muttered. CHAPTER XXV A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION Betty was whipping mayonnaise in the kitchen when a voice hailed the Diamond Bar K ranch in general. “Hello the house!” Through the window she saw a rider on a horse, and a moment later her brain localized him as a neighborhood boy who had recently joined the forest rangers. She went to the door, sleeves still rolled back to the elbows of the firm satiny arms. “Hoo-hoo!” she called, flinging a small hand wildly above her head in greeting. “Hoo-hoo, Billy boy!” He turned, caught sight of her, and at once began to smile. It was noticeable that when Betty laughed, as she frequently did for no good reason at all except a general state of well-being, others were likely to join in her happiness. “Oh, there you are,” he said, and at once descended. “Umpha! Here I am, but I won’t be long. I’m making salad dressing. Come in to the kitchen if you like. I’ll give you a cookie. Just out o’ the oven.” “Listens good to Billy,” he said, and stayed not on the order of his coming. She found him a plate of cookies and a stool. “Sit there. And tell me what’s new in the hills. Did you pass the dam as you came down? And what d’you know about the tunnel?” The ranger stopped a cookie halfway to his mouth. “Say, that fellow--the one drivin’ the tunnel--he’s been shot.” “What!” “Last night--at Don Black’s cabin.” A cold hand laid itself on her heart and stopped its beating. “You mean--on purpose?” He nodded. “Shot through the window at dark.” “Mr. Hollister--that who you mean?” “Yep. That’s what he calls himself now. Jones it was at first.” “Is he--hurt badly?” “I’ll say so. In the side--internal injuries. Outa his head when I was there this mo’ning.” “What does the doctor say?”