“Got the warrant?” Jim asked.

The deputy produced it.  Long Jim looked at it curiously and handed it back.

“Guess the only other thing you want, then, is the man.”

“Better produce him quickly,” the deputy advised.

Jim turned away.

“Can’t do it.  He’s beat it.”

“You mean that you’ve let him go?”

“Let him go?” Jim repeated.  “I ain’t got no right to keep him.  He took the job on at a moment’s notice and he left at a moment’s notice.  There’s some of your party after him, all right.”

The deputies whispered to one another.  The elder of the two turned around.

“Look here,” he said to the cowboys, glancing around for Long Jim, who had disappeared, “we’ve had about enough of your goings-on.  I reckon we’ll take one of you back and see what seven days’ bread and water will do towards civilising you.”

There was a little mutter.  The deputies stood side by side.  With an almost simultaneous movement they had drawn their guns.

“Where’s Long Jim?” the older one asked.

There was a sudden whirring about their heads.  A lariat, thrown with unerring accuracy, had gathered them both in its coil.  With a jerk they were drawn close together, their hands pinned to their side.  Two cowboys quickly disarmed them.  Long Jim came sauntering round from the other side of the range wagon, tightening the rope as he walked.

“Say, you’ve got a hell of a nerve, butting into a peaceable camp like this.  We ain’t broke no laws.  So you’re a’going to civilise us, eh?  Well, Mister Harris, we can play that civilising game, too.  Hey boys, all together, tie ’em up against that wagon.”

A dozen willing hands secured them.  The two men spluttered wildly, half in anger, half in fear of their tormentors, but in a few seconds they were secured firmly against the canvas-topped wagon.

“Now sit easy, gentlemen, sit easy.  Nothing’s going to hurt you.”  Long Jim shoved fresh cartridges into his forty-five.  “That is, unless you’re unlucky.  Line up there, boys, one at a time now.  Bud, you and Tim and Dough-head give them guys a singe, their hair’s getting too long.  The rest of you boys just content yourselves doing a fancy decoration on the canvas all around ’em.  I’ll deevote my entire attenshun to trimming them lugshuriant whiskers, Mister Harris is a-sporting.  All ready now,—­one, two, three, let ’em whistle!”

The two deputies gave a simultaneous yell as several bullets sung by their ears.

“Whoa, old horses,” drawled Long Jim.  “Flies bothering you some, eh?  Sit easy, sit easy.  Too dangerous hopping around that way.  You might stick yourselves right in the way of one of them spitballs.  Some nerve tonic this!  A.X.X.  Ranch brand, ready to serve at all hours, cheap at half the price.  Ah ha, pretty near shaved your upper lip that time, didn’t I, Mister Harris.  My hand’s a bit unsteady, what with all the excitement hereabouts.  Say, put a stem on that chrysanthemum you’re doing, Cotton-top.”