"Told?" he echoed. Suddenly his big body leaped with a start. "Who got her? Who fetched her?"

"Why, Mister Gunman Riggs hyar," replied Anson, with a subtle scorn.

"Riggs, you got the wrong girl," shouted Beasley. "You made thet mistake once before. What're you up to?"

"I chased her an' when I got her, seein' it wasn't Nell Rayner--why--I kept her, anyhow," replied Riggs. "An' I've got a word for your ear alone."

"Man, you're crazy--queerin' my deal thet way!" roared Beasley. "You heard my plans.... Riggs, this girl-stealin' can't be done twice. Was you drinkin' or locoed or what?"

"Beasley, he was giving you the double-cross," cut in Bo Rayner's cool voice.

The rancher stared speechlessly at her, then at Anson, then at Wilson, and last at Riggs, when his brown visage shaded dark with rush of purple blood. With one lunge he knocked Riggs flat, then stood over him with a convulsive hand at his gun.

"You white-livered card-sharp! I've a notion to bore you.... They told me you had a deal of your own, an' now I believe it."

"Yes--I had," replied Riggs, cautiously getting up. He was ghastly. "But I wasn't double-crossin' you. Your deal was to get the girl away from home so you could take possession of her property. An' I wanted her."

"What for did you fetch the sister, then?" demanded Beasley, his big jaw bulging.

"Because I've a plan to--"

"Plan h.e.l.l! You've spoiled my plan an' I've seen about enough of you."

Beasley breathed hard; his lowering gaze boded an uncertain will toward the man who had crossed him; his hand still hung low and clutching.

"Beasley, tell them to get my horse. I want to go home," said Bo Rayner.

Slowly Beasley turned. Her words enjoined a silence. What to do with her now appeared a problem.

"I had nothin' to do with fetchin' you here an' I'll have nothin' to do with sendin' you back or whatever's done with you," declared Beasley.

Then the girl's face flashed white again and her eyes changed to fire.

"You're as big a liar as Riggs," she cried, pa.s.sionately. "And you're a thief, a bully who picks on defenseless girls. Oh, we know your game!

Milt Dale heard your plot with this outlaw Anson to steal my sister. You ought to be hanged--you half-breed greaser!"

"I'll cut out your tongue!" hissed Beasley.

"Yes, I'll bet you would if you had me alone. But these outlaws--these sheep-thieves--these tools you hire are better than you and Riggs....

What do you suppose Carmichael will do to you? Carmichael! He's my sweetheart--that cowboy. You know what he did to Riggs. Have you brains enough to know what he'll do to you?"

"He'll not do much," growled Beasley. But the thick purplish blood was receding from his face. "Your cowpuncher--"

"Bah!" she interrupted, and she snapped her fingers in his face. "He's from Texas! He's from TEXAS!"

"Supposin' he is from Texas?" demanded Beasley, in angry irritation.

"What's thet? Texans are all over. There's Jim Wilson, Snake Anson's right-hand man. He's from Texas. But thet ain't scarin' any one."

He pointed toward Wilson, who shifted uneasily from foot to foot. The girl's flaming glance followed his hand.

"Are you from Texas?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss, I am--an' I reckon I don't deserve it," replied Wilson. It was certain that a vague shame attended his confession.

"Oh! I believed even a bandit from Texas would fight for a helpless girl!" she replied, in withering scorn of disappointment.

Jim Wilson dropped his head. If any one there suspected a serious turn to Wilson's att.i.tude toward that situation it was the keen outlaw leader.

"Beasley, you're courtin' death," he broke in.

"You bet you are!" added Bo, with a pa.s.sion that made her listeners quiver. "You've put me at the mercy of a gang of outlaws! You may force my sister out of her home! But your day will come.' Tom Carmichael will KILL you."

Beasley mounted his horse. Sullen, livid, furious, he sat shaking in the saddle, to glare down at the outlaw leader.

"Snake, thet's no fault of mine the deal's miscarried. I was square. I made my offer for the workin' out of my plan. It 'ain't been done. Now there's h.e.l.l to pay an' I'm through."

"Beasley, I reckon I couldn't hold you to anythin'," replied Anson, slowly. "But if you was square you ain't square now. We've hung around an' tried hard. My men are all sore. An' we're broke, with no outfit to speak of. Me an' you never fell out before. But I reckon we might."

"Do I owe you any money--accordin' to the deal?" demanded Beasley.

"No, you don't," responded Anson, sharply.

"Then thet's square. I wash my hands of the whole deal. Make Riggs pay up. He's got money an' he's got plans. Go in with him."

With that Beasley spurred his horse, wheeled and rode away. The outlaws gazed after him until he disappeared in the cedars.

"What'd you expect from a greaser?" queried Shady Jones.

"Anson, didn't I say so?" added Burt.

The black-visaged Moze rolled his eyes like a mad bull and Jim Wilson studiously examined a stick he held in his hands. Riggs showed immense relief.

"Anson, stake me to some of your outfit an' I'll ride off with the girl," he said, eagerly.

"Where'd you go now?" queried Anson, curiously.

Riggs appeared at a loss for a quick answer; his wits were no more equal to this predicament than his nerve.

"You're no woodsman. An' onless you're plumb locoed you'd never risk goin' near Pine or Show Down. There'll be real trackers huntin' your trail."

The listening girl suddenly appealed to Wilson.

"Don't let him take me off--alone--in the woods!" she faltered. That was the first indication of her weakening.

Jim Wilson broke into gruff reply. "I'm not bossin' this gang."

"But you're a man!" she importuned.

"Riggs, you fetch along your precious firebrand an' come with us," said Anson, craftily. "I'm particular curious to see her brand you."