Macklin cleared his throat thoughtfully. "Gentlemen," he said gravely,
"if I knew the purpose for which you are seeking the lady I--"

"The purpose ain't to kidnap her, if that's your drift," said Ronicky.
"We ain't going to treat her wrong, partner. Out in our part of
the land they don't do it. Just shake up your thoughts and see if
something about that girl doesn't pop right into your head."

Robert Macklin smiled and carefully shook his head. "It seems to be
impossible for me to remember a thing," he asserted.

"Not even the color of her eyes?" asked Ronicky, as he grinned. He
went on more gravely: "I'm pretty dead sure that you do remember
something about her."

There was just the shade of a threat in the voice of this slender
youngster, and Robert Macklin had been an amateur pugilist of much
brawn and a good deal of boxing skill. He cast a wary eye on Ronicky;
one punch would settle that fellow. The man Gregg might be a harder
nut to crack, but it would not take long to finish them both. Robert
Macklin thrust his shoulders forward.

"Friends," he said gruffly, "I don't have much time off. This is my
day for rest. I have to say good-by."

Ronicky Doone stood up with a yawn. "I thought so," he said to his
companion. "Mind the door, Gregg, and see that nobody steps in and
busts up my little party."

"What are you going to do?"