Tug was bitterly disappointed as he had hoped the rider would prove to be one of the sheriff’s cowboys, and he would have started trouble with any of them at the slightest provocation. He hated them all intensely, but with this fellow it was different. Tug couldn’t bring himself to pick trouble with a half-wit, so he determined to throw a scare into him and run him off the ranch. He was crouched behind a small mound and as MacNutt came abreast his place of concealment he sprang up and covered him with his rifle. “Stretch your arms!” Tug commanded him, his eyes glittering savagely, “I reckon this is about your limit. Who let you out, anyway?” MacNutt’s hands went up with alacrity, and such a look of dismay spread over his features that he brought a grin to Tug’s face. “Get down off that horse,” he next commanded him, keeping the rifle on a line with his heart. “Don’t keep that cannon pointed at me, it makes me nervous,” protested MacNutt in a trembling voice as he laboriously dismounted. “Oh, the gun makes you nervous, does it, tenderfoot?” Tug sneered with bitter sarcasm. “Well, it will go off mighty sudden if you don’t answer my questions right smart. You’re from Bar X, ain’t you? Who sent you here, and what do you want?” MacNutt had apparently found his nerve again, the foolish smile appearing on his face. “You fire your questions too fast,” he protested in his droll voice, and started to lower his hands. “Keep ’em up!” his captor snarled, raising his gun threateningly. MacNutt smiled at Tug blandly, his hands held high in the air. “I rode over from the ranch to see one of Ricker’s men,” he explained with childlike simplicity. “Met him at the Post yesterday. He ain’t got no more use for the Bar X outfit than I have, and I agreed to put him wise to some things I know about them.” Tug stared at him incredulously. “What is the name of the cowboy you met yesterday?” he questioned, suspicion in his voice. “I can’t remember his name,” MacNutt replied readily. “We were slopped up a little, but I can describe him.” This he proceeded to do, and evidently to Tug’s satisfaction. “You mean Jean Barry,” he said in a modified tone when MacNutt had finished his description. “Come, and I’ll take you to him.” A curious gleam shone in MacNutt’s eyes for an instant, as he was ordered by Tug to keep six paces in advance of him. On the way to the ranch house, a close observer would have noticed that not a single item of the plans of the buildings or out-houses of the ranch had escaped MacNutt’s notice. Although his eyes held their dull sleepy look, they sought out every object of importance. A group of cowboys were watching the approach and one of them walked out rapidly to meet them. He proved to be Ricker. “What have we here, Tug?” he demanded, with a suspicious look at MacNutt. “Claims he knows Jean Barry and wants to see him,” Tug answered tersely. Ricker scowled darkly.