The duplicity of woman! Loudon's first thought was that Kate was at her old-time tricks--flirting again. His second was that she was aiding the 88 in their nefarious practices. What did it mean? Loudon, his eyes hard as gray flint, edged noiselessly backward, and sat up behind the outcrop. He signalled Laguerre by placing two fingers on his lips, pointing over his shoulder, and holding up one finger twice. Then Loudon flattened his body at the corner of the outcrop, shoved his rule forward, and covered Rudd. Forefinger on trigger, thumb ready to cock the hammer, he waited. He could not hear what the two by the sumac bushes were saying. They were fully a hundred yards distant. But it was evident by the way Kate leaned forward and tapped her saddle-horn that she was very much in earnest. Frequently Rudd shook his head. Loudon heard a faint rustle at his side. He turned his head. Laguerre was crawling into position. "Dunno who that sport under the pine is," whispered Loudon. "You take him anyhow, an' I'll take Rudd. Get 'em both without a shot. It's a cinch." Suddenly, after a decidedly emphatic shake of Rudd's head, Kate's figure straightened, and she struck her saddle-horn a sharp blow with the flat of her hand. It was an action characteristic of Kate. She always employed it when annoyed. Loudon smiled grimly. With an impatient tug Kate pulled a white object from her saddle-pocket and flung it at Rudd. Then she wheeled her horse on his hindlegs, jumped him ahead, and set off at a tearing run. Rudd stooped to pick up the fallen white object, and Loudon opened his mouth to bawl a command when he was forestalled by the watcher under the pine. "Hands up!" came in the unmistakable bellow of Marvin, the 88 range-boss. Rudd stood up, his hands above his head. The white object lay at his feet. Kate had halted her horse at Marvin's shout. She turned in her saddle and looked back. "Keep a-goin', lady!" yelled Marvin. "You've done enough, you have! Now you wander, an' be quick about it!" "Shut up, Marvin!" called Loudon. "You always did talk too much! Keep yore paws up, Rudd! This ain't nothin' like a rescue for yuh!" "You know dat feller under de tree?" demanded Laguerre. "Not the way you mean, Telescope," replied Loudon, without removing his eyes from Rudd. "He's one o' Blakely's gang--their range-boss." "Geet up on you han's un knees, you feller," instantly ordered Laguerre, "un move back slow." Loudon and Laguerre, covering their men, moved down the slope. The 88 puncher took his defeat well. The light-blue eyes above the snub nose met Loudon's stare serenely. "Yo're a whizzer," observed Rudd. "I wouldn't play poker with yuh for a clay farm in Arkinsaw. Yo're too lucky." "It's a habit I've got," said Loudon. "Now if I was you, Rudd, I'd lower my left hand nice an' easy, an' I'd sort o' work my gun-belt down till it slid over my knees, an' I could step out of it."