At daylight there was hubbub, horseplay, and banter on the Double X. Art French climbed up into the chuck wagon (the cook\'s supply list in his pocket), banged on a huge pot, and announced that the race was on. Arch Wiggins, on this part of the journey, at least, had plenty of assistant horse wranglers, for the eight riders, Cimarron with the rest, herded the horses and started for the SV, happy as schoolboys on a lark.

Reaching Gunsight, they caused quite some commotion, and fired into the air to give zest to the occasion. Dave mopped his beaded brow several times before his share in the festivities slackened, and Two-Spot, burning with a fever of curiosity, shuffled from the chuck wagon being loaded in front of Dailey\'s to the saloon, asking shrewd questions and making pertinent observations.

"An\' why th\' waggin?" he asked Slim.

"To put Juniper in," answered that cheerful disciple of George Washington. "We reckoned we\'d like to have a town closer to th\' ranch, an\' Gunsight ain\'t good enough."

Two-Spot wandered around and put the question to Cimarron.

The segundo regarded him with level gaze. "It\'s[208] for th\' widder\'s mite," he answered. "We\'re on th\' rustle, which ain\'t to be told."

"Huh!" snorted Two-Spot, "you might be aimin\' for some widder, at that; but I\'m sayin\' that if she sees you first, you\'ll need more\'n eight men an\' a waggin to take her away from her home an\' fambly. What are you aimin\' to rustle?"

"Every cow on a certain ranch between here an\' Juniper," whispered Cimarron, looking stealthily around.

"Then don\'t you waste no time hangin\' around here," warned Two-Spot, also looking stealthily around. "Big Tom\'s gettin\' up early these mornin\'s, I bets."

Cimarron gravely shook his head, whereat Two-Spot remarked carelessly, apropos of nothing, "Smitty has left th\' range for good. He had two holes in his hat, th\' upper hole like a coffeepot with th\' lid back. He rode his own hoss, an\' was goin\' strong when he passed here. But nobody was chasin\' him, then."

"Hey, fellers!" shouted the segundo, joyously, "Smitty has follered Squint, with a couple of gun-shot wounds in his Mex. hat!"

Laughter and cheerful remarks greeted the news, and Dave had to verify it.

"Bar H: mark two!" cried Norris. "Bring \'em up, you ropers—th\' irons are hot!"

Two-Soot, despairing of gaining any real information in Dave\'s, shuffled out and went to Dailey\'s where Art French was putting the last of the provisions on the wagon.

"Hello French!" greeted Two-Spot, putting a foot[209] on the spokes of a wheel. "Where are you fellers headin\' for?"

"Up th\' Juniper trail," answered Art. "Want to come along? Have you got th\' nerve to take a chance with somebody else\'s cattle?"

Two-Spot looked at him intently. "What are you aimin\' to do with \'em?" he asked.

"What do folks usually do with cows that don\'t belong to \'em?" countered Art.

"Holy mavericks!" muttered Two-Spot. "These here ijuts ain\'t carin\' a whole lot who knows about it! What you got th\' waggin for? Aimin\' to squat out there an\' steal \'em as fast as they grows up?"

"That\'s for th\' hides of them that gets killed. We\'re goin\' to round up every hoof, clean and prompt."

"You didn\'t stop at th\' Doc\'s on yore way up, did you?" asked Two-Spot, paying no attention to the noise made by several men who had mounted and were riding toward the wagon at a walk.

"Why?"

"Oh, nothin\', only I reckon\'d mebby you\'d got some of them little white pills he shoots into hisself."

"Can you keep a tally?" asked Art, carelessly.

"I can; but I won\'t."

Art waved a hand at him. "He can tally; but he won\'t."

Three ropes dropped over the surprised ex-tally man and were drawn not unpleasantly tight. He thought it might be a joke, so he grinned; it would not do to let anyone think he took it seriously, because it might cause them to take it that way. "Takes three men on[210] hosses to rope me," he jeered, chuckling. "Better get th\' rest of th\' gang before I gets rough an\' boisterous."

"Can you set a horse?" asked Slim.

"I shore can\'t," regretted Two-Spot. "It\'s one of th\' sorrers of my life."

"Then we\'ll have to tie him on," said Wood. "Chuck us out a couple of hobbles, Art."

"I can ride any hoss you can," boasted Two-Spot. "I was bustin\' \'em before you was borned."

"Then we\'ll hobble th\' hoss," laughed Wiggins.

"Loosen \'em up; I hears Dave a-callin\'!" exclaimed Two-Spot, suspiciously eager to answer duty\'s call.

"Where you aimin\' to have him swing?" demanded Art. "Squint has got to be revenged."

"Th\' first tree," growled Slim. "We gives you one chance to save yoreself an\' help rid this range of law-breakers. Who got Squint?"

"You go to h—l!" blazed Two-Spot as the ropes tightened. "Take \'em off me!"

"Who got Squint?" repeated Slim, threateningly.

"If I tells, will you let me out of these cussed ropes?" asked the shivering victim.

"We will!"

"Smitty got him," chuckled the captive. "Ask him if you don\'t believe me. Take \'em off, now!" As soon as he was freed he danced away, wary and anxious, and bumped into Cimarron, whose muscular arms held him as in a vice. "Now, what\'s th\' matter?" blazed Two-Spot, wriggling in vain. "What you reckon yo\'re goin\' to do?"

"We need a tally man on this rustlin\' expedition,"[211] said Cimarron, "an\' we like yore looks. Bring up a cayuse, an\' he can go bareback; either that or ride with Art."

"I\'m ridin\' with Art if I goes, which I ain\'t aimin\' to!" snorted Two-Spot. "I can\'t count up to more\'n ten," he protested.

"You won\'t have to count at all," Cimarron assured him. "All you got to do is make little pencil marks like a picket fence on a piece of paper, or drop a pebble in yore hat for every cow. You can drop pebbles, can\'t you?"

"Not very good," deprecated Two-Spot. "I\'m too oncertain."

"Well, when yo\'re oncertain," chuckled Slim, "yore chuck will be oncertain. Th\' oncertainer you are, th\' less you\'ll eat."

Cimarron picked Two-Spot up and put him in the wagon, whereupon Slim and Wood rode up close to it, ropes in hand. "There ain\'t nothin\' oncertain about Slim\'s ropin\', or Wood\'s, neither," warned Cimarron. "You better stay right in that waggin." He turned to go to his horse. "Come on, boys! We\'re startin\' now!"

Dave went to a window to see them off, caught sight of Two-Spot\'s appealing face in the wagon, and hastened to the door and out toward the vehicle.

"Hi!" shrilled Larry, his rope darting from his hand.

"Hi! Hi! Hi!" yelled the others, their ropes going to the mark.

"What\'n h—l!" shouted Dave, struggling, and[212] glaring around. He was the center from which four rope radii pointed to the card............