With some difficulty Bud succeeded in mounting his bronco. The little pony was trembling, as though it realized something of what was going on. "Well, sonny, how does it feel to be talked to and not be able to talk back? Something like that Mexican cook of yours, hey?" "The Mexican cook!" Bud turned swiftly in his saddle. "So he's one of your men too! I thought--" he began hotly. "You thought nothin'!" the one called Sam interrupted in a rough voice. "You heard what the boss said. If you want to enjoy good health a while longer, keep your mouth shut!" There was nothing for it but to obey. It would do no good to persist in questioning his captors, and not only would he learn nothing, but the questions would only serve to antagonize them more. The three rode along silently. Now and then Bud would shift in the saddle, for it is no easy thing to ride a long ways on a nervous pony with one's hands tied behind. Finally they seemed to reach their destination--the house Bud had seen in the distance. It was a ramshackle affair, with the roof partly torn away and no vestige of paint. Evidently it had once been used for a farm house, for about it were several other shacks, probably to store grain in. Delton dismounted and held the bridle of Bud's pony. "Your new home," he said, with a grin. "Come right in. Sorry we can't fix you up better, but you see all the servants are away." The lad hesitated a moment. "Off you come!" Delton seized Bud by the belt and pulled. The boy tumbled off his pony and hit the ground. "That wasn't--necessary!" the boy panted, as he lay there with most of the breath knocked out of him. Luckily he had fallen on his side, and not on his face, which would have meant a real injury, his hands tied as they were. "Maybe not, but I figger it'll do you good. Give you an appetite for dinner," and Delton laughed harshly. "Where I come from we treat 'em worse than that." "Aw, let him alone," Sam growled. "No use hurtin' the kid! That won't help us any. If we get caught it won't be so good havin' a lot of enemies." "Who said we were goin' to get caught?" Delton walked over to where Sam sat on his pony. "Sam, I haven't liked your actions lately. Now you yell about getting caught. You know what happened to that last bird who arranged for me to meet up with the cops?" "Yea, I know." Sam moved uneasily in his saddle. He did not meet Delton's eyes. "You don't think I'd tell on you, do ya--an' get twenty years myself? Ain't likely. Anyway----" "All right! Pipe down. Get this kid inside. I want to see if Slim got back yet." "Come on, kid. Here, I'll help you up. Hurt yourself?" Sam had dismounted and assisted Bud to his feet. "No, I didn't. Thanks. What was his idea in pulling me off like that? If ever I get him I'll remember it."