He broke off and, bending swiftly, pulled his Colt from under the table. Breaking the weapon, he ejected a little shower of empty brass shells, at the sight of which his lips tightened. Still without comment, he rapidly filled it from his belt, Hardenberg watching him intently the while. "Meanwhile, you'd like a little action, eh?" drawled the sheriff. "You're right. Either of you hurt?" He glanced inquiringly at Jessup, who was just wiping the blood from his cut face. "Not me," snapped Bud. "This don't amount to nothin'. Say, was there a guy hangin' around outside when yuh came in--short, with black hair an' eyes set close together?" Buck gave a slight start; the sheriff shook his head. "I might have known he'd beat it," snorted Bud. "But I'll get the lyin' son-of-a-gun yet; it was him told us yuh were in here." Hardenberg's gray eyes narrowed slightly. "That'll come later. We'll round up this bunch first. If you two will ride around to Main Street and get hold of half a dozen of my deputies, I'll stay here and hold this bunch." Rapidly he mentioned the names of the men he wanted and where they could be found, and Stratton and Jessup hastily departed. Outside they found three horses, their own, tied to the hitching-rack as they had left them, and a big, powerful black, who stood squarely facing the door, reins merely trailing and ears pricked forward. The two that had been there when they first rode up were gone. "Just like I thought," said Jessup, as they mounted and swung around the corner. "That guy was planted there a-purpose to get us into the eatin'-house. What's more, I'll bet my saddle he was the same one who came snoopin' around Red Butte camp two weeks ago. Recollect, Gabby said he was small, with black hair an' eyes close together?" Buck nodded. "It's a mighty sure thing he was there again last night and pulled our loads," he added in a tone of chagrin. "We're a pretty dumb pair, kid. Next time we'll believe Gabby when he says his door was opened in the night." "I'll say so. But I thought the old bird was just fussing. Never even looked at my gun. But why the devil should we have suspected anythin'? Why, Lynch don't even know yore alive!" "He must have found out someway," shrugged Stratton, "though I can't imagine how. No use shedding tears over it, though. What we've got to do is get Hardenberg moving double-quick. Here's George Harley; I'll take him, and you go on to the next one." Rapidly the deputies were gathered together and hurried back to the eating-house to find Hardenberg holding the Mexicans without difficulty. Half an hour later these were safely lodged in the jail, and the sheriff began a rigorous examination, which lasted until late in the afternoon.