"Spare me! Spare me!" groaned Fred. "I'll tell. I'll tell." And hurriedly he blurted the details of the plot to discredit the rescuers. Incredulous, the men stared at one another as the story was told. Unwilling to believe that the merchant would stoop to such an act, they examined the boy with a merciless fire of cross-questions. But the lad doggedly maintained he was telling the truth and when at last the members of the posse were reluctantly forced to believe, their anger at the dastardly plot knew no bounds. "Lynch him! Shoot him!" rang from many a throat as the men urged their horses forward that they might lay hands on the wretch. Enraged as he was, the great bandit cried: "Steady, men, steady! The lad isn't so much to blame as his father." Realizing the truth of the words, the thief-hunters dropped back, waiting for their orders, muttering angry threats against the plotters. Strange indeed was the caprice of fate that had made the man he had striven to wrong so grievously his defender, yet such had the brown bearded desperado become. Terrified by the black looks about him, Fred moved closer to his protector's side. After a short interval, during which Jesse had consulted with Clell and Frank, the men grew restless, demanding that the lad be given to them. The world-famous desperado, however, had other plans. "Some of you ride back to the Springs and get Consollas. Get some tar and feathers and a big kettle at the same time. "We'll give the precious pair a lesson they won't forget right away." The suggestion met with noisy approval and quickly a score or more of the posse dashed off to find the merchant and the stuff necessary for the torture while the others set about erecting a tripod for the kettle and gathering firewood. Consollas' plot had proved a boomerang. CHAPTER IV. YOUNG ROZIER MAKES A STARTLING DISCOVERY. As the members of the posse who had been sent back to the Springs neared the village the clouds of dust kicked up by their horses were seen. "Here they come! They've got the thieves!" shouted several of the more excitable loungers. From lip to lip, the word was passed along that the posse was returning with the miscreants who had stolen Consollas' roan and when the horsemen drew rein in front of the merchant's store they were greeted by every man, woman and child who was able to get to the square, on which all the shops were located. Throwing their reins over their ponies' heads, the volunteers leaped to the ground and ran into Consollas' place of business, never pausing to answer the bombardment of questions hurled at them by the crowd when it was discovered that only part of the posse had returned and without any prisoners. But the merchant was not in his shop. "Where's your boss?" snapped one of the men of the frightened clerks who were gathered in one corner, watching the search of the intruders. "He hasn't been here for two hours or more," responded one of them. "Don't lie!"