Handing his boots out first, Larkin crawled headforemost out of the window and put his arms around the shoulders of his rescuers, resting most of his weight upon their bent backs. Then they walked slowly away from the house and Bud's feet and legs came out noiselessly. Still in the shadow of the walls they set him down and he drew on his boots. It was not until then that Sims's assistant made himself known. "Hello, boss," he said and took off his broad hat so that Larkin could see his face. "Jimmie Welsh, by George!" whispered Bud joyfully, wringing his hand. "Did you bring many of the boys down with you?" "Fifty," replied the other. "Bully for you! I don't know what would become of me if it weren't for you and Hard-winter." As they talked they were moving off toward the little river that wound past the Bar T house. "Got a horse for me?" asked Bud. "Yes," said Sims, "over here in the bottoms where the rest of the boys are." "What do you plan to do now?" Sims told him and Bud grinned delightedly at the same time that his face hardened with the triumph of a revenge about to be accomplished. "Let's get at it," he said. "Wait here and I'll get the rest of the bunch." Hard-winter left them, and in a few minutes returned with a dozen brawny sheepmen, mostly recruited from Larkin's own ranch in Montana. When greetings had been exchanged they moved off quietly toward the ranch-house. The corral of the Bar T was about fifty yards back of the cook's shanty and as you faced it had a barn on the right-hand side, where the family saddle horses were kept in winter, as well as the small amount of hay that Bissell put up every year. To the left of the corral the space was open, and here the Bar T punchers had made their camp since leaving their former quarters. The bunk-house on the other hand stood perhaps fifty feet forward of the barn. It was toward this building that the expedition under Sims took its way. Silently the rough door swung back on its rawhide hinges and ten men, with a revolver in each hand, filed quietly in. Sims and Larkin remained outside on guard. Presently there was a sound of muttering and cursing that grew louder. Then one yell, and the solid thud of a revolver butt coming in contact with a human skull. After that there was practically no noise whatever. The men outside watched anxiously, fearful that the single outcry had raised an alarm. But there was no sound from either the house or the cowboys' camp. Presently Welsh stuck his head out of the door. "How is she? Safe?" he asked. "Yes, bring 'em out," answered Bud, and the next minute a strange procession issued from the bunk-house. The cowmen, gagged, and with their hands bound behind them, walked single file, accompanied by one of the sheepmen. Without a word the line turned in the direction of the river bottoms, where the rest of the band and the horses were waiting. To do this it was necessary to pass behind the cook-house. Bud leaned over and spoke to Sims.