In the pleasant moonlight they sauntered back, two of them still engaged in lively badinage, while the third played chorus with appreciative little giggles and murmurs of “Oh, Mr. Halliday!” and “You know you’re just flattering me, Mr. McWilliams.” If they had not been so absorbed in their gay foolishness the two men might not have walked so innocently into the trap waiting for them at their journey’s end. As it was, the first intimation they had of anything unusual was a stern command to surrender. “Throw up your hands. Quick, you blank fools!” A masked man covered them, in each hand a six-shooter, and at his summons the arms of the cow-punchers went instantly into the air. Nora gave an involuntary little scream of dismay. “Y’u don’t need to be afraid, lady. Ain’t nobody going to hurt you, I reckon,” the masked man growled. “Sure they won’t,” Mac reassured her, adding ironically: “This gun-play business is just neighborly frolic. Liable to happen any day in Wyoming.” A second masked man stepped up. He, too was garnished with an arsenal. “What’s all this talking about?” he demanded sharply. “We just been having a little conversation seh?” returned McWilliams, gently, his vigilant eyes searching through the disguise of the other “Just been telling the lady that your call is in friendly spirit. No objections, I suppose?” The swarthy newcomer, who seemed to be in command, swore sourly. “Y’u put a knot in your tongue, Mr. Foreman.” “Ce’tainly, if y’u prefer,” returned the indomitable McWilliams. “Shut up or I’ll pump lead into you!” “I’m padlocked, seh.” Nora Darling interrupted the dialogue by quietly fainting. The foreman caught her as she fell. “See what y’u done, y’u blamed chump!” he snapped. CHAPTER XIII. THE TWO COUSINS The sheepman lay at his ease, the strong supple lines of him stretched lazily on the lounge. Helen was sitting beside him in an easy chair, and he watched the play of her face in the lamplight as she read from “The Little White Bird.” She was very good to see, so vitally alive and full of a sweet charm that half revealed and half concealed her personality. The imagination with which she threw herself into a discussion of the child fancies portrayed by the Scotch writer captured his fancy. It delighted him to tempt her into discussions that told him by suggestion something of what she thought and was.