“Yes--I had,” replied Riggs, cautiously getting up. He was ghastly. “But I wasn't double-crossin' you. Your deal was to get the girl away from home so you could take possession of her property. An' I wanted her.” “What for did you fetch the sister, then?” demanded Beasley, his big jaw bulging. “Because I've a plan to--” “Plan hell! You've spoiled my plan an' I've seen about enough of you.” Beasley breathed hard; his lowering gaze boded an uncertain will toward the man who had crossed him; his hand still hung low and clutching. “Beasley, tell them to get my horse. I want to go home,” said Bo Rayner. Slowly Beasley turned. Her words enjoined a silence. What to do with her now appeared a problem. “I had nothin' to do with fetchin' you here an' I'll have nothin' to do with sendin' you back or whatever's done with you,” declared Beasley. Then the girl's face flashed white again and her eyes changed to fire. “You're as big a liar as Riggs,” she cried, passionately. “And you're a thief, a bully who picks on defenseless girls. Oh, we know your game! Milt Dale heard your plot with this outlaw Anson to steal my sister. You ought to be hanged--you half-breed greaser!” “I'll cut out your tongue!” hissed Beasley. “Yes, I'll bet you would if you had me alone. But these outlaws--these sheep-thieves--these tools you hire are better than you and Riggs.... What do you suppose Carmichael will do to you? Carmichael! He's my sweetheart--that cowboy. You know what he did to Riggs. Have you brains enough to know what he'll do to you?” “He'll not do much,” growled Beasley. But the thick purplish blood was receding from his face. “Your cowpuncher--” “Bah!” she interrupted, and she snapped her fingers in his face. “He's from Texas! He's from TEXAS!” “Supposin' he is from Texas?” demanded Beasley, in angry irritation. “What's thet? Texans are all over. There's Jim Wilson, Snake Anson's right-hand man. He's from Texas. But thet ain't scarin' any one.” He pointed toward Wilson, who shifted uneasily from foot to foot. The girl's flaming glance followed his hand. “Are you from Texas?” she asked. “Yes, Miss, I am--an' I reckon I don't deserve it,” replied Wilson. It was certain that a vague shame attended his confession. “Oh! I believed even a bandit from Texas would fight for a helpless girl!” she replied, in withering scorn of disappointment. Jim Wilson dropped his head. If any one there suspected a serious turn to Wilson's attitude toward that situation it was the keen outlaw leader. “Beasley, you're courtin' death,” he broke in. “You bet you are!” added Bo, with a passion that made her listeners quiver. “You've put me at the mercy of a gang of outlaws! You may force my sister out of her home! But your day will come.' Tom Carmichael will KILL you.” Beasley mounted his horse. Sullen, livid, furious, he sat shaking in the saddle, to glare down at the outlaw leader.