"No more'n natural," conceded Meshackatee, "but you understand there's such a thing as the law. I can't shut my eyes to no such violations, but--well, my orders, boys, is dead or alive. I reckon you understand." "Uhr, that's different," replied 'Winchester, as Meshackatee winked at him; but Bill was still in the dark. "Yes--law!" he burst out, "a man get lots of protection from you deputy sheriffs and such. Here them Scarboroughs have been chasing us like a couple of wild animals for well-nigh onto a month----" "Never mind, Bill," smiled Winchester, "don't you git the idee? We serve these here warrants with a six-shooter." "The Scarboroughs," put in Meshackatee, "is charged with first degree murder, for killing your father and Sharps." "Oh," nodded Bill, and sat in gloomy silence. "Well, gimme a star, then," he said. They rode on along the ridge, keeping well up above Turkey Creek and watching for the Scarboroughs below; and, as no horsemen appeared, they finally skirted the whole valley and came out in the hills above the Basin. The ground here was open, with waving slopes of grass and timber along the summits; and they made a camp among the oak trees, while they staked out their horses and swept the plain with their field-glasses. They had a pair apiece now, for the men who had ambushed them had left all their glasses on their saddles; and as Meshackatee surveyed the spoils he chuckled in his beard, for the day had not promised so well. "Pretty slick, boys," he said, "two horses apiece now, and these field-glasses are sure good for weak eyes. I feel it in my bones I'll soon have a big posse--say, ain't that one of the Scarboroughs by the house?" "It's Red," responded Hall, "he's riding my horse. I'd know that little roan anywhere." "Remember that time when he tried to trade you out of him? Well, that's Red--he's crazy about horses." "Yes, and I'm crazy, too," said Hall, still watching him through his glasses. "I'll bet you I get that horse back." "How?" demanded Meshackatee, but Hall shrugged his shoulders. "How does anybody get back a horse?" he asked. "By cracky!" burst out Meshackatee, "that gives me an idee! Do you mean you're going to steal 'im? Well, we'll pull a little Injun stuff, jest to pay 'em for this morning, and I bet you we come pretty nigh gitting _Red_!" "Well, count me in on that," put in Winchester quietly. "It was Red that shot the old man." "I know this is good," said Meshackatee, "because I saw it pulled off once myself. The A-paches danged near worked it on me. Instead of stealing that horse, jest slip up and pull his picket-pin; and like any horse he'll make for the hills. It ain't nature for a horse to stay out on them flats--they always like to git up on high ground. Well, let 'im ramble till daylight and then see where he's gone to--and be there when Red comes up." "Let me do it!" clamored Bill, but Winchester brushed him aside. "I'm the oldest," he said. "I claim Red."