Dillon ranch.

His watch showed eleven o'clock before they reached the ranch, but he
pushed on without turning in and did not stop until they came to the
Howard place.

They roused Alec from sleep, and he cooked them a post-midnight
supper, after which he saddled his cow pony, buckled on his belt, and
took down his old rifle from the rack.

"I'll jog along with you lads and see the fun," he said.

Their prisoner had not eaten. The best he could do was to gulp down
some coffee, for he was in a nervous chill of apprehension. Every gust
of wind seemed to carry to him the patter of pursuit. The hooting of
an owl sent a tremor through him.

"Don't you reckon we had better hurry?" he had asked with dry lips
more than once, while the others were eating.

He asked it again as they were setting off.

Howard looked him over with rising disgust, without answering.
Presently, he remarked, apropos of nothing: "Are all your Texas wolves
coyotes, Steve?"

He would have liked to know at least that it was a man whose life he
was protecting, even though the fellow was also a villain. But this
crumb of satisfaction was denied him.