“No personal objection whatever, Hal. But we don’t want any one along that has a grudge at Tait. We’re fighting for the range, and we don’t intend to settle any individual scores.” “Suits me. I expect I can square accounts with Joe Tait at the proper time without lugging all you fellows along.” McCoy looked directly at him. “This party is ducking trouble, not looking for it, Hal. We intend to get the drop on Tait and hold him prisoner till we’re through. Our only targets will be sheep.” “Fine! I’ll take orders from you to-night, Rowan.” “That makes everything all right then,” put in Larry cheerfully. McCoy still hesitated. He knew of Falkner’s gusty and ungovernable temper, and suspected the bilious rancour of his ill will toward Tait. “Oh, let him go,” decided Rogers impatiently. “One more won’t do any harm, and we might need him. Falkner is not a fool. He knows we can’t afford to shoot up Tait or his men.” “Sure I know it. What’s the use of so much beefing? I’m going with you, whether or no.” “Looks like our anxious friend has elected himself one of us,” Sam assented amiably. Rowan was outvoted. He shrugged, and, against his better judgment, gave up the point. They rode hard across a rough, hilly country. The moon had gone under scudding clouds. It had turned a good deal colder, and there was a feel of rain in the air. They were following no trail, but were cutting as near a bee-line as possible over mountains, through gulches, and along washes. McCoy led them with the sure instinct of the hillsman. The night was dark, and the hill pockets they traversed were like one another as peas in a pod. But there was never a moment when he hesitated as to direction. The time was half-past two when Rogers struck a match and looked at his watch. “Bald Knob is less than a mile from here,” said McCoy. “We’ll mask now in case we should bump into the camp sooner than we expect. Think we’d better cut out talking. We’ve got to surprise them. If we don’t, Tait will fight and that isn’t what we want.” He drew from his pocket half a dozen bandannas. Each man made and fitted his own mask from a handkerchief. “The wind is from the north. That’s lucky, because we’ve got to get at the camp from the south. The dogs couldn’t scent us even if they are close to the wagons,” Rowan explained. “The dogs will be with the sheep. I ain’t worried about them,” answered Rogers. They rode cautiously now, one after the other in single file. From a ridge McCoy pointed out the sheep camp at the foot of Bald Knob. “We’ll leave our horses in that clump of pines and creep forward to the wagons,” he gave directions. “Remember, boys. No shooting. We’re going to get the drop on Tait and take him prisoner. If we can’t do that, the raid is off. We’re not killing human beings. Get that, Hal.” Falkner nodded sulkily. “I told you I was taking orders from you to-night, Mac.”