“Talk all right--too tired,” The Pup mumbled. “Not hurt--tired--hungry.” Then for the first time he seemed to realize that he was surrounded by a ring of inquiring, puzzled faces. He pulled himself together and glared haggardly at Teddy, then shifted his gaze to Roy, and finally to Mr. Manley. Suddenly the light of fear came into his eyes, and he leaped to his feet, trembling. “Don’t--don’t shoot me,” he begged piteously. “I’ll go! But don’t shoot me!” “No one’s going to shoot you,” Mr. Manley said soothingly. “Here, sit down. Take this blanket. Man, you’re shiverin’ like a leaf. Get closer to the fire--that’s it! Pop rustle up some beans for this feller, will you? He looks half starved.” “Half starved!” the man gasped, querulously, and sank within himself. “Worse’n that. Three days without food--lost--horse gone--” Pop Burns brought some cold beans to him, and, hungrily, ravenously, the man reached for them. They watched him while he ate, more like a wild beast than a human being, and later Pop brought him a cup of steaming coffee. When he had finished this he sighed with relief and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice, when again he spoke, was stronger. “Boss,” he said, turning to Mr. Manley, “I don’t deserve this. By rights you should have thrown me out on my neck. Instead you--” he hesitated, and waved his arm in an expressive gesture--“you treat me like a man instead of like a--a mangy dog.” He gulped, and his listeners shifted uneasily. “I ain’t worth it. I’m a thief--a hoss thief an’ a common robber. Once I-- But we’ll let that go. I ain’t got yore money, boss,” he said suddenly, and looked up appealingly. “I ain’t got a cent of it left.” “You spent it?” Mr. Manley asked sharply. “I been robbed,” The Pup continued, and gulped again. “Been robbed of everything I had except the hoss, an’ he ran away. For three days I been walkin’--tryin’ to find some one--any one--tryin’ to find food--” “Who robbed you?” “Denver Smith an’ his bunch.” “Denver Smith!” Jake Trummer ejaculated, and bent over The Pup. “When did yuh see them? Where are they? Have they got--” “Give the man a chance, Jake,” Mr. Manley advised gently. “He’s all in. Listen Marino,” he said in a louder tone, “do you know where Denver Smith is now?” “Said he was goin’ to rustle your cattle an’ follow the river to the Border,” The Pup whispered weakly. “Wanted me to go in it with him, but I figured I’d done enough to you. Then Denver hit me--hit me with somethin’--” stupidly he put his hand to his head. “Hit me, an’ took the four hundred dollars, an’ when I woke up my hoss was gone an’ I was lyin’ near some trees. The four hundred bucks--I was hopin’ to make Togas an’ find my sister--an’ I was goin’ to work--buy a store, maybe--an’ send the money back to you, boss--honest I was--every cent--” “And buy a few more knives with some one else’s initials burned in the handle,” Teddy interrupted bitterly. “The story listens fine, Marino!”