the gang we can get hold of. We 'll herd 'em all into jail first, and
get the evidence afterwards. There 'll be some show to get it then,
and there ain't now. We 'll load up with warrants, and arrest every
kiote that's thought to be a member of the gang; and we 'll start in
with Faustin Dysert himself!"

Tuttle looked perplexed. He had in his veins a strain of German blood,
which showed in his frank, sincere, blonde countenance and in his
direct and unimaginative habit of mind. But Ellhorn supplemented his
solidity and straightforwardness with an audacity of initiative and a
disregard of consequences that told of Celtic ancestry as plainly as
did the suggestion of a brogue that in moments of excitement touched
his soft Southern speech.

"Marshal Black would be dead agin goin' at it that way," said Tuttle
doubtfully.

"Of course he would! But he ain't here, and we 'll run this round-up
to suit ourselves; and if we don't bunch more bad steers than was ever
got together in this town before, I 'll pull my freight for hell
without takin' another drink!"

"Mebbe you 're right," said Tuttle slowly, "and I think likely that
would be Emerson's judgment too. If he hadn't got married we 'd be all
right. Us three could go up agin the whole lot of 'em and win out in
three shakes!"

"Then let's send for him, and see if he 'll come!"

But Tuttle shook his head. "No," he said positively, "that would n't