“Sam’s quite right,” assented McCoy. “We’re going on a sheep raid, and against a desperate man. We’re going to kill his sheep—ride them down—stampede them. It’s not a nice business, and the law is dead against us. I don’t like it a bit, but I’m going because it is the only way to pound sense into Tait’s fool head. We’ve got to do it or shut up shop.” Rowan spoke with a gravity that carried conviction. He was a man notable even in that country which bred strong men. His steel-gray eyes looked out unafraid upon a world still primitive enough to demand proofs of any man who aspired to leadership among his fellows. McCoy had long since demonstrated his fitness to lead. No man in the Fryingpan country doubted this. Hence his words now carried weight. “I stand pat,” said Silcott. Cole nodded agreement. “Good enough. But understand this: We’re not man-killers. Tait is a bad lot, all right, but we’re not out to get him. We’re going to mask, surprise the camp, hold it up, do our business, then get out. Is that plain?” “Plain as the Map of Texas brand,” assented Yerby with a grin. “Listens fine, too. But what have you arranged for Tait to be doing while you-all is making him a prisoner?” “He’ll be sleeping, Sam. Here’s the layout. One of the herders and the dogs will be with the sheep. We’ll slip right up to the wagon and capture Tait first thing. He’s a heavy sleeper—always was. Once we get him the rest will be easy.” The Texan nodded. “Ought to go through as per plan if the sheep are far enough from the wagon.” “They’ll be far enough away so that the dogs won’t bark at us.” “Who is that?” cried Rogers, pointing to the trail below. All of them with one consent stopped to watch the horseman riding up out of the darkness. “It’s Hal Falkner,” Cole cried in a low voice. “Falkner! What’s he doing here?” demanded McCoy. He whirled on Silcott. “Did you tell him where we were to-night, Larry?” “No, I didn’t.” “You told him something—that Tait had crossed the dead line and was heading for Thunder Mountain.” “I might have said that,” admitted Silcott a little sulkily. “Did you tell any one else?” “No. What’s ailin’ you, Mac?” “Just this. I don’t want to go to the penitentiary because you can’t keep your mouth shut, Larry. Falkner is the last man you ought to have told. I don’t want him with us to-night. He’s too anxious to get at Tait.” “Oh, well, I guess he’ll be reasonable.” Falkner rode up the trail out of the shadowy gloom. “Thought you’d lose me, did you? Fine stuff, boys. How’s yore busted laig, Sam? And did you get that important letter, Brad? I know you other lads got the cattle to the Circle Diamond because I saw them there.” “What do you want, Hal?” asked Rowan curtly. “Me, Mac? Same as you. I want to shoot some pills into Mary’s little lambs. Did you think I was riding for my health?” “We don’t want you along with us. Our party’s made up.” “Short and sweet, Mac. What’s the objection to my company?” demanded Falkner frostily.