ridge. Then he dismounted and turned the man over.

"What you got to say about my turnin' you loose?" he queried as the
other sat up.

"Nothin'."

"All right. Get a movin'--and don't try to run. I got my rope handy."




Chapter IX


_High-Chin Bob_

The man's rusty black coat was torn and wrinkled. His cheap cotton shirt
was faded and buttonless. His boots were split at the sole, showing part
of a bare foot. He was grimy, unshaven, and puffed unhealthily beneath
the eyes. Lorry knew that he was but an indifferent rider without seeing
him on a horse. He was a typical railroad tramp, turned highwayman.

"Got another gun on you?" queried Lorry.

The man shook his head.

"Where'd you steal that horse?"

"Who says I stole him?"