"You hear that, Chet. You can go if you want to," murmured Dave with
good-natured irony.

"Said he'd shoot me in the back if I hit the trail any faster," Fox
snorted to the girl.

"He wouldn't dare," flamed Beulah Rutherford.

Her sultry eyes attacked Dingwell.

He smiled, not a whit disturbed. "You see how it is, Chet. Maybe I
will; maybe I won't. Be a sport and you'll find out."

For a minute the three rode in silence except for the sound of the
horses moving. Beulah did not fully understand the situation, but it
was clear to her that somehow Dingwell was interfering with a plan of
her people. Her untamed youth resented the high-handed way in which he
seemed to be doing it. What right had he to hold Chet Fox a prisoner
at the point of a rifle?

She asked a question flatly. "Have you got a warrant for Chet's
arrest?"

"Only old Tried and True here." Dave patted the barrel of his weapon.

"You're not a deputy sheriff?"

"No-o. Not officially."