"That's what we are afraid of. The Indians carried him off, and here, as you see, they were camped last night. I cherished a hope that he might have had the good fortune to escape." "I don't know anything about it," rejoined Clark in a more amiable tone, now that he saw that no suspicion attached to him. "What yer ridin' two on one pony for?" asked Blinky suddenly. "None of your business," rejoined Clark. "I guess we can ride the way we like." "Well, I guess so," echoed Hank. "Fine way they interfere with gentlemen's preferences out here in the West." "You had three ponies when you started out," pursued Blinky, looking at the spurs on Hank's feet, and noting the extra saddle which Clark carried behind him. "We did not." "What yer got the extra saddle for, then, and what's he got on spurs for, just ter decorate his handsome figure?" "Well, I can if I want to, can't I?" demanded Hank. "We're looking for a stray pony," explained Clark glibly. "That's why we're carrying the saddle--to put on him when we find him. That, too, accounts for the spurs. Anything else you'd like to know?" "Yes," demanded Merritt, his eyes blazing and his voice shaking with excitement as he stepped forward. "_Where did you get Rob Blake's sombrero?_" His eye had fallen on that article of headgear just as Hank had clumsily tried to conceal it. Merritt instantly recognized it by the stamped band about its crown. "Why, I--we--that is--it's my hat," lied Hank clumsily. "That's not true, and you know it!" shouted Merritt, carried away by rage. "You know where Rob Blake is. You----" Crack! The boy staggered back, half-blinded, as Bill Bender raised his heavy quirt and cut him full across the face with it. "Come on, boys!" shouted Clark, as Merritt reeled backward. "Let's get out of this." The two ponies sprang forward, leaving the ranch party half-stunned by the suddenness of Bill's brutal blow. But it was only for a second. In that interval of time Blinky's face had grown wrinkled and drawn with anger, and his hand had slid back to his hip and produced his forty-four. In another instant Bill would have paid dearly for his blow, but the rancher's hand fell on the cow-puncher's arm. "Not that way, Blinky," he said. "All right, boss," rejoined Blinky regretfully; "but it would have been a heap of satisfaction to have let daylight into that coyote's carcass." "Those fellows know where Rob is!" shouted Merritt, across whose face an angry red ridge lay, marking where the quirt had struck him. "Stop them!" "Steady on, boy, steady on," said Mr. Harkness in an even, cool tone. "And we without a spavined cayuse to follow 'em!" raged one of the cow-punchers. As he spoke, the three tormentors of the ranch party topped the little rise. As they did so, Clark Jennings rose in his stirrups and faced back. "Ye-ow!" he yelled defiantly, waving his hat mockingly toward them. Bang!