be a square deal for Mrs. Emerson, and we won't do it. We 'll stack up
alone against this business, Nick. We 'll put on all the guns we 've
got and keep together. We might get Willoughby Simmons--he 's deputy
sheriff now; but he 's got no judgment, and he 's likely to get rattled
and shoot wild if things get excitin'. We 'll get the warrants and
start out right away, for we 've got to keep the thing quiet and nab
'em before they find out we 're on the warpath. You-all remember you
're sure goin' to keep sober!"

"Well," said Nick with a laugh, "I 'll be sober enough to stack up with
any measly kiote that's pirootin' around this town!"

Tuttle went for the warrants, and Ellhorn said he would get some
breakfast. But first he waited until his friend was out of sight and
then paid a visit to the bar-room. Next he went to the telegraph
office. The message that he sent was addressed to Emerson Mead, Las
Plumas, New Mexico, and it read:

"Tommy and me are up against the Dysert gang alone, and I 'm drunk.
Nick."

He came out of the telegraph office smiling joyously and humming under
his breath the air of "Bonnie Dundee." "I did n't ask him to come," he
said to himself, "and if he wants to now, that's his affair. Well, I
reckon he ain't any more likely to have daylight let through him now
than he was before he got married; and nobody's gun has made holes in
him yet!"

It was early afternoon when the two friends started out on their
round-up of bad men. To attract as little notice as possible they took