"What has Chet done?"

Dingwell regarded the other man humorously. "What have you done, Chet?
You must 'a' broke some ordinance in that long career of
disrespectability of yours. I reckon we'll put it that you obstructed
traffic at Lonesome Park."

Miss Rutherford said no more. The rain had given way to a gentle mist.
Presently she took off her slicker and held it on the left side of the
saddle to fold. The cattleman leaned toward her to lend a hand.

"Lemme roll it up," he said.

"No, I can."

With the same motion the girl had learned in roping cattle she flung
the slicker over his head. Her weight on the left stirrup, she threw
her arms about him and drew the oil coat tight.

"Run, Chet!" she cried.

Fox was off like a flash.

Hampered by his rifle, Dave could use only one hand to free himself.
The Rutherford girl clung as if her arms had been ropes of steel.
Before he had shaken her off, the runaway was a hundred yards down the
road galloping for dear life.

Dave raised his gun. Beulah struck the barrel down with her quirt. He
lowered the rifle, turned to her, and smiled. His grin was rueful but