“Jim, now hyar's a queer deal this feller has rung in on us. I thought thet kid was pretty young. Don't you remember Beasley told us Nell Rayner was a handsome woman?” “Wal, pard Anson, if this heah gurl ain't handsome my eyes have gone pore,” drawled Wilson. “A-huh! So your Texas chilvaree over the ladies is some operatin',” retorted Anson, with fine sarcasm. “But thet ain't tellin' me what you think?” “Wal, I ain't tellin' you what I think yet. But I know thet kid ain't Nell Rayner. For I've seen her.” Anson studied his right-hand man for a moment, then, taking out his tobacco-pouch, he sat himself down upon a stone and proceeded leisurely to roll a cigarette. He put it between his thin lips and apparently forgot to light it. For a few moments he gazed at the yellow ground and some scant sage-brush. Riggs took to pacing up and down. Wilson leaned as before against the cedar. The girl slowly recovered from her excess of anger. “Kid, see hyar,” said Anson, addressing the girl; “if Riggs knowed you wasn't Nell an' fetched you along anyhow--what 'd he do thet fur?” “He chased me--caught me. Then he saw some one after us and he hurried to your camp. He was afraid--the cur!” Riggs heard her reply, for he turned a malignant glance upon her. “Anson, I fetched her because I know Nell Rayner will give up anythin' on earth for her,” he said, in loud voice. Anson pondered this statement with an air of considering its apparent sincerity. “Don't you believe him,” declared Bo Rayner, bluntly. “He's a liar. He's double-crossing Beasley and all of you.” Riggs raised a shaking hand to clench it at her. “Keep still or it 'll be the worse for you.” “Riggs, shut up yourself,” put in Anson, as he leisurely rose. “Mebbe it 'ain't occurred to you thet she might have some talk interestin' to me. An' I'm runnin' this hyar camp. ... Now, kid, talk up an' say what you like.”