"I'll release that horse myself," stated Hall. "If Red follows it, that's nothing to me." "Winchester's surest," decided Meshackatee. "But whoever takes this job has got to do it my way." "All right," agreed Winchester, his eyes suddenly a-gleam. "Go ahead--what you want me to do?" "I want you to rise up," said Meshackatee solemnly, "and say: 'Surrender, in the name of the law!'" "He'll take that to hell with 'im," predicted Winchester grimly. "I wish I could say it for Isham." "That's my job," replied Meshackatee. "I claim Isham." "You can have him," conceded Winchester, "if I don't git him first. But what's your grievance against Isham?" "Never mind," returned Meshackatee, "but I'm telling you right now--I claim Isham Scarborough myself. That's what brought me back to these parts." "Well, we won't quarrel," smiled Winchester, and, going off by himself, he began to pace up and down. "Come on," he said at last, "they're watching us through their glasses. Let's saddle up and start off north. We can come back after it's dark." "Good idee," agreed Meshackatee, "but ain't they a cowardly bunch of gun-toters--afraid to come out and fight the four of us!" "That ain't the way they work it," said Winchester. "We'll give 'em a dose of their own medicine. But honest, boys, I can't hardly wait to git my gun on Red Scarborough." They rode off slowly, keeping a scout before and behind to protect them from possible surprise; and when it was dark they made their way across Turkey Creek, taking shelter in the hills behind the store. From their hiding place on the heights they could see the lights down at the Rock House, and lanterns bobbing to and fro; and shortly after midnight, armed only with his pistols, Hall McIvor set off on his quest. He walked warily from the first, for the ambush of that morning had taught him to fear the Apaches; but if they were skulking near he passed by them unobserved and crept close to the silent Rock House. For an hour he lay watching it, half-tempted to climb the Indian mound and steal a secret interview with Allifair; but the hounds were restless and noisy and the time had not come for him to jeopardize her safety again. The Scarboroughs ruled the Basin with the power of feudal barons, their retainers were on every trail; and until their pride was broken, until they, too, had learned to fear, it was useless to oppose their will. He crept closer through the damp grass to where his high-headed roan, Blue, was nervously circling his stake, and when it recognized him he worked its picket-pin loose and watched it as it walked away. At first it started south, heading back towards its home; but as the hounds rushed out barking it turned and circled west, still dragging the rope and pin.