“Boss,” he said huskily, “I’m for you! I can’t say much,--but I’ll do whatever you want me to--barrin’ nothin’. I’ll trail Denver Smith till we get the cattle back if I drop in my tracks doin’ it. I’ll work my fingers off for you. Boss--will you shake?” There was a tense silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire, as the hands of boss and bandit met in a firm clasp. CHAPTER XXIV Flying Bullets A rosy dawn broke over the prairie. It shone on a group of men moving quickly about. Near them the smoke from a campfire arose. A few pans, containing the remains of a range breakfast, lay near it on the ground. Horses were being saddled, blankets rolled, rifles were being wiped dry from the morning dew. But there was an orderliness about this activity, a purpose in every movement of the figures. Every man knew exactly what he had to do, and was doing it, swiftly and definitely. Teddy was tightening a cinch-strap, and he looked up as Roy called to him: “Need any help? I’m all set.” “No thanks, Roy. I’ll make it.” The strap was quickly adjusted, and Teddy vaulted into the saddle. The others were mounting now, and the party soon started to move forward. Mr. Manley and Jake Trummer were leading, while Teddy, Roy and Jules Kolto, the latter seeming like a new man after his sleep, followed directly behind. The rest rode along in the rear. Kolto was astride the pinto he had stolen, but now he sat with his head held firmly and his chin thrust forward. He was a hunted thief no longer, but a man. Down toward the river the line of riders swept. They came fast and silently. In the crook of each right arm rested a rifle. On every face was a look of fixed determination. The sun was high when the leaders held up cautioning hands, and the column of horsemen stopped suddenly. “There’s a bunch of cows just ahead,” Mr. Manley said tensely. “Can’t tell yet if they’re ours, but I think they are. Now ride slow an’ easy. We’ll come up careful an’ have a look.” Once more the riders started forward, this time spread further apart, so that they came upon the cattle from different directions. Pop was the first to single out a cow and look at her brand. Then he rode swiftly toward Teddy and Roy, who were nearest. “They’re ours, boys!” he yelled. “I spotted the ole X Bar X brand in a minute! When I invented that, long ago, I figgered it would be easy to see at a distance! Yep, boys, they’re here!” “Tell dad!” Roy called. “Teddy, we’ll ride around them and see where his dis-honor, Denver Smith, is!” Spurring their ponies forward, the two boys flashed over the ground, making a wide circle around the milling cattle. “Looks like the cows are all safe!” Teddy yelled as he sped along. “Now for Denver Smith!” Behind Teddy and Roy came Bug Eye and Nat Raymond, bending low in their saddles, holding their rifles in readiness. Their pistols were loose in the holsters, should close range fighting hamper the use of the longer barreled rifles.