Bill laughed and boasted and made a joke of the thought of any danger from the malcontents of the Cross Bar-8, and flatly refused to allow the sheriff to ride with him. He talked volubly until the agent profanely sent him on his journey, and he tore through the streets of the town in the same old way. He forded the Limping Water in safety and crossed the ten mile stretch of open plain without a sign of trouble. As he left the water of the stream the sheriff started after him from town, intending to be not far behind him when he entered the rough country. When Bill plunged into the defile through the Backbone he began to grow a little apprehensive, and he intently watched each stretch of the road as each successive turn unfolded it to his sight. His foot was on the brakes and he was braced to stop the rush of his team at the first glimpse of an obstruction, or to tear past the danger if he could. One coyote yell and one snap of the whip would send the team wild, for they remembered well. All was nice until he neared the place where The Orphan had held him up for a smoke, and it was there the trouble occurred. As he swung around the sharp turn he saw four cowboys bunched squarely in the center of the trail and at such a distance from him that to attempt to dash past them would be to lay himself open to several shots. They had him covered, and as he grasped the situation Tex Williard rode forward and held up his hand. "Stop!" Tex shouted. "Get down!" "What in thunder do you want?" Bill asked, setting the brakes and stopping his team, wonder showing on his face. "Yu!" came the laconic reply. "Get down!" "What's eating you?" Bill asked in no uncertain inflection. Had Tex been less imperative and kept the insulting tone out of his words Bill might have had time to become afraid, but the sting made him leap over fear to anger; and genuine anger takes small heed of fear. Tex motioned to one of his men, who instantly leaped to the ground and ran to the turn, where he knelt behind a rock, his rifle covering the back trail. Then Tex returned to the driver. "Curiosity is eating me, yu half-breed!" he cried. "GET DOWN! d----n yu, GET DOWN!! Don't wait all day, neither, do yu hear? What th' h--l do yu think I'm a-talkin' for!" "Well, I'll be blamed!" ejaculated Bill, wrapping the reins about the back of his seat. "Anybody would think you was the boss of the earth to hear you! You ain't no road agent, you're only a fool amature with more gall than brains! But I'll tell you right here and now that if you _are_ playing road agent, I wouldn't be in your fool boots for a cool million. And if you are joking you are showing d----d bad taste, and don't you forget it. You're holding up a sack of U. S. mail, and if you don't know what that means----"