"The most dangerous thing for us is to harm him. Do that, an' we won't last a month in this country." "What's yore idea, then, Homer? We can't hold him till Christmas. Soon as we let him go, he'll trot back an' tell all he knows," protested his brother irritably. "What does he know? Nothin' except that we found him when he claimed to be lost an' that we looked after him an' showed him how to get home. Even if he's seen those cattle he can't prove we burned the brands, can he?" "No-o." "In a day or two we'll take the trail. I'll put it to Ridley that we haven't time to take him back to town an' that he'd sure get lost if we turned him loose here. We'll drop him somewheres on the trail after we've crossed the line." "Fine an' dandy," jeered Gurley. "We'll introduce him to the herd an' take him along so's he'll be sure we're the rustlers." They wrangled back and forth, covering the same ground time and again. At last they agreed to postpone a decision till next day. Homer reported the issue of their debate, colored to suit his purpose, to the white-faced Ranger. "I reckon we'll have to look out for you, Ridley. It wouldn't do to turn you loose. You'd get lost sure. Mebbe in a day or two some of us will be driftin' in to town an' can take you along." "If you'd start me in the right direction I think I could find my way back," Arthur said timidly. "No chance, young fellow. You'll stay right here till we get good an' ready for you to go. See?" The Ranger did not push the point. He knew very well it would not be of the least use. His fears were temporarily allayed. He felt sure that Homer Dinsmore would put up a stiff argument before he would let him be sacrificed. CHAPTER XXXI A PAIR OF DEUCES From the lookout point among the rocks where he was stationed Overstreet shouted a warning to his companions below. "Fellow with a white flag ridin' in. Looks like he might be a Ranger." Pete Dinsmore dropped a coffee-pot and took three strides to his rifle. His brother Homer and Steve Gurley garnished themselves promptly with weapons. They joined the lookout, and from the big rocks could see without being seen. The man coming to their hang-out had a handkerchief or a flour sack tied to the barrel of his rifle and was holding it in the air. He jogged along steadily without any haste and without any apparent hesitation. He was leading a saddled riderless horse. A rifle cracked. Pete Dinsmore whirled on Gurley angrily. "What you do that for?" Malice, like some evil creature, writhed in Gurley's face. "It's that fellow Roberts. We got him right at last. Leggo my arm." "I'll beat yore head off if you shoot again. Lucky for you you missed. Don't you see he comes here as a messenger. Ellison musta sent him." "I don' care how he comes. He'll never go away except feet first." The man who had been horsewhipped by the Ranger was livid with rage.