"I got me a terrible toothache," Allen volunteered to several punchers, as he was saddling the roan. They glanced at his bandaged face and offered various sure cures. "Shucks! I think I'll go to town an' have the darn thing yanked out," the little outlaw told them. Bill McAllister and Allen skillfully cut some twenty horses from the milling crowd in the corral, drove them through the gate, and started them toward the cavvy. Among them was the gray. As Allen swept by the twins and Spur Treadwell, Mac McGill watched him and then shook his head. "He sure rides like him," he said thoughtfully. "He sure does," Sandy agreed. "Who's that?" Spur Treadwell asked. "Last night, in the bunk house, I was certain that kid was Jim Allen, but we jumped him an' finds him naked like a baby," Sandy explained. "Yuh thought he was the Wolf?" Spur Treadwell asked. His eyes followed Allen. "Yeh, but I reckon we was wrong," Mac said indifferently. "Mebbe so, but I aims to talk turkey to that kid when I next sees him an' make plumb certain," Sandy said flatly. "One-wing knows him," Spur Treadwell announced. His mind was occupied with other things. He frowned and then rolled a cigarette. "Why don't yuh marry the gal an' save all this bother?" Mac asked maliciously. The cords tightened in Spur's neck at this taunt, but his eyes showed no resentment when they met Mack's. Though he had sufficient courage, he was not foolish enough to quarrel with either of the twins. They were too deadly with a gun. He knew their type--knew their blood lust--knew that if he pressed them, they would drop him as quickly as they would some hobo puncher. No, he would never place himself in a position where he would be forced to draw against them. Later, after they had outgrown their usefulness--that was different. They would pay then for any taunts they threw at him now. "Mebbe I will marry the gal--but I don't hanker none to have no rich wife--they get bossy," he said coldly. The twins grinned at each other, then the three strolled slowly toward the house. About a mile from the ranch house, Bill McAllister pulled his horse over close to Allen, and the two rode on side by side in silence. The bunch of horses trotted on ahead. "Kid, I hears about the ruction yuh had in the bunk house last night with the twins. I'm askin' yuh, who are yuh?" the old horse wrangler said keenly. "What yuh mean?" Allen said innocently. "Yuh was out ridin' last night--I see the saddle marks on that gray of yourn--an' what's more, it ain't the same one yuh was ridin' yesterday. That was a mare. Figgered mebbe yuh didn't want folks to notice, so I brung him along," McAllister said bluntly. Allen cast one quick glance at the honest, rugged face of the old-timer and made up his mind to trust him. "All right--I'm Jim-twin Allen," he said soberly.