"Gimme my gun," demanded Loudon, when his hands were free. "In a minute," parried the marshal. "Sheriff, if I was you I'd hit the trail. Yore popularity ain't more'n deuce-high just now." "I'll go," glowered Block. "But I'll be back. An' when I come I'll have a warrant. I reckon the Sheriff o' Sunset will honour it, even if you won't." "Bring on yore warrant," retorted the marshal. The rumble of wheels and thud of hoofs attracted Loudon's attention. Over the heads of the crowd he saw the high sides of a tarpaulin-covered wagon and, sitting on the driver's seat, Captain Benjamin Burr and Scotty Mackenzie. "Hi, Cap'n Burr. Hi, Scotty!" shouted Loudon. "Where are they?" exclaimed Mrs. Burr, her harsh features lighting up. "Oh, there they are! You Benjamin Burr, come right in here this instant. Yore wife wants yore help!" Captain Burr swayed back on the reins. Dragging a sawed-off shotgun he hopped to the ground, Scotty Mackenzie at his heels. The crowd made way for them. Captain Burr swept his hat off and bowed ceremoniously to his wife. "My love," said he, "in what way may I assist you?" "That party," sniffed Mrs. Burr, levelling a long forefinger at the wretched Block, "comes up an' accuses Mr. Tom Loudon here o' bein' a rustler an' a hoss thief. Says he's been brandin' 88 cows an' that he stole that chestnut hoss yonder." The sawed-off shotgun, an eight-gauge Greener, covered Block's belt buckle. "Suh, you lie," said Burr, simply. "What did I tell all you folks?" cried Mrs. Burr, triumphantly. Block made no attempt to draw. He folded his arms and glared ferociously. He found glaring difficult, for he knew that he did not look in the least ferocious. "I'm doin' my duty," he said, sullenly. "Gentlemen all, I'd like some show in this," pleaded Loudon. "Just gimme back my gun, an' me an' Block'll shoot it out." "Wait a shake," said Scotty, sliding between Loudon and Block. "Let me get the straight of this. You accuse Loudon here of brandin' 88 cattle?" "Shore," insisted the stubborn Block, "an' he stole that chestnut hoss he's ridin', too. Just look at the 88 brand. It's plain as day." "Suh," burst out Burr, "I happened to be at the 88 ranch the day my friend Tom Loudon bought that chestnut hoss. I saw him pay Blakely. Everybody in Fo't Creek County knows that Tom Loudon has owned that hoss fo' upwa'ds of a yeah. You know it, you rascal! Don't attempt to deny it!" To this sweeping assertion Block made no reply. "I guess now that settles half the cat-hop," said Scotty. "The other half I know somethin' about myself. Jack Richie o' the Cross-in-a-box told me. It was thisaway----" And Scotty related the tale of Marvin and Rudd and the Crossed Dumbbell cow and calf. "Now what yuh got to say?" Scotty demanded of Block when the story was told.