“You’re lyin’!” There was a look of fear in the man’s eyes,

Tex shrugged:  “You’ll only waste a half a day ridin’ down to see for yourself,” he replied indifferently.

Johnson appeared to consider, then stepped close to the Texan’s side:  “They say one good turn deserves another.  Meanin’ that you shet up about them cattle an’ I’ll shet up about seein’ you.”

“That way, it wouldn’t cost you nothin’ would it, Johnson?  Well, it’s a trade, if you throw in the aforementioned articles of outfit I specified, to boot.”

“Not by a damn sight!  You got the best end of it the way it is.  Lynchin’ is murder!”

“So it is,” agreed the Texan.  “An’ likewise, maintainin’ weak reservoirs that lets go an’ drowns other folks’ cattle is a public nuisance, an’ a jury’s liable to figger up them damages kind of high—­’specially again’ you, Johnson, bein’ ornery an’ rotten-hearted, an’ tight-fisted, that way, folks don’t like you.”

“It means hangin’ fer you!”

“Yes.  But it means catchin’ first.  I can be a thousan’ miles away from here, in a week, but you’re different.  All they got to do is grab the ranch, it’s good for five or six thousan’ in damages, all right.  Still if you don’t want to trade, I’ll be goin’.”  He gathered up his reins.

“Hold on!  It’s a damned hold-up, but what was it you wanted?”

The Texan checked off the items on his gloved fingers:  “One pair of pants, one shirt, one hat, one pair of boots, same size as yourn, one pair of spurs, one silk muffler, that one you’ve got on’ll do, one cinch, half a dozen packages of tobacco, an’ one bottle of whiskey.  All to be in good order an’ delivered right here within ten minutes.  An’ you might fetch a war-bag to pack ’em in.  Hurry up now!  ’Cause if you ain’t back in ten minutes, I’ll be movin’ along, an’ when I pass the word to the owners of them cattle it’s goin’ to raise their asperity some obnoxious.”

With a growl the man disappeared into the house to return a few minutes later with a sack whose sides bulged.

“Dump ’em out an’ we’ll look ’em over!” ordered the Texan and the man complied.

“All right.  Throw ’em in again an’ hand ’em up.”

When he had secured the load by means of his pack strings he turned to the rancher.

“So long, Johnson, an’ if I was you I wouldn’t lose no time in attendin’ to the last solemn obsequies of them defunk dogies.  I’ll never squeal, but you can’t tell how soon someone else might come a-ridin’ along through the foot-hills.”

CHAPTER XIII

A BOTTLE OF “HOOCH”

It was well past the middle of the afternoon when the Texan rode up the steep incline and unsaddled his horse.  The occupants of the camp were all asleep, the girl in her little shelter tent, and Bat and Endicott with their blankets spread at some little distance away.  Tex carried the outfit he had procured from Johnson into the timber, then crawled cautiously to the pilgrim’s side, and awoke him without arousing the others.