The men were George Doble and a cowpuncher known as Shorty, a broad,
heavy-set little man who worked for Bradley Steelman, owner of the
Rocking Horse Ranch, what time he was not engaged on nefarious business
of his own. He was wearing a Chihuahua hat and leather chaps with silver
conchas.

At this moment Hop Lee arrived with dinner.

Dave sighed as he grinned at his friend. "I need that supper in my
system. I sure do, but I reckon I don't get it."

"You do not, old lizard," agreed Hart. "I'll say Doble's the most
inconsiderate guy I ever did trail. Why couldn't he 'a' showed up a
half-hour later, dad gum his ornery hide?"

They paid their bill and passed into the street. Immediately the sound of
a clear, high voice arrested their attention. It vibrated indignation and
dread.

"What have you done with my father?" came sharply to them on the wings of
the soft night wind.

A young woman was speaking. She was in a buggy and was talking to two men
on the sidewalk--the two men who had preceded the range-riders out of the
restaurant.

"Why, Miss, we ain't done a thing to him--nothin' a-tall." The man Shorty
was speaking, and in a tone of honeyed conciliation. It was quite plain
he did not want a scene on the street.