Ginger sat down, and rolled a cigarette. “You boys thirsty?” Teddy, who was facing him, said he was. His throat was burning still from Jamisson’s clutch. Ginger held the canteen to the boy’s lips, and Teddy drank deep. “Thanks,” he said. “Could you loosen us just a little? My arm--” Ginger grinned, and shook his head. “That’s one thing I can’t do. Reckon you’ll have to sleep as best you can. Hungry?” “No,” Roy replied shortly. He felt it was useless to argue. This guard, while good-natured enough, could not be coerced into giving them their freedom. Roy realized that, and decided to bide his time. Perhaps something would turn up before morning. He could hear Star whinnying close by, where he and Flash had been picketed. Roy thought that if he could manage to slip his bonds and overpower Ginger he and Teddy might still save their cattle. But now was no time to try it, while the guard was watching them. If he would only fall asleep! But Ginger was not the sort to give in to weariness when he was told to watch. He sat quietly, puffing on his cigarette, staring at the captives. Time dragged interminably. The silence of the woods seemed oppressive, overpowering. Roy felt his muscles tense with an effort at control. Anything would be better than this monotony. “How long are you going to keep us here?” he asked suddenly. Ginger shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t say. Till morning, anyhow. Maybe someone will ride back by that time.” Another period of silence. Roy strained his ears for the slightest sound, hoping, desperately, that someone would come. But who? They had not been gone long enough for his father to become worried and start to searching for them. Even then, it was useless to expect them to find this hiding place. It was too well concealed. Suddenly he started, nerves taut. Was not that a stick that broke behind him? There! Surely he heard a footstep! “Any idea of the time?” he asked loudly. “Suppose you haven’t got a watch. Not many punchers carry ’em. I remember when I first got one. Thought I was king of the rock. Only a small wrist-watch, but, believe me, I was sure proud of it. My dad gave it to me. Bet I have it yet some place. Funny how you hang on to those things. Like an elk’s tooth, or a rabbit’s foot. Sort of charm, you know. I knew a puncher that used to--” A figure stepped quickly from the shadows and stood over Ginger. A club was raised and brought down swiftly, landing on the man’s head with a dull thud. Without a sound, his body relaxed, and he sprawled on the ground, senseless. The figure bent down and felt of the rustler’s heart. “Just stunned,” he remarked, relief in his voice. He straightened, and Roy uttered an exclamation. “Mohammed!” “Professor Sullivan, if you please. I have discarded my robes. I find them cumbersome in situations of this sort. Now if you’ll just hold still a second--”