which were hauled the supplies to

"I'll keep hands off," said he. He strode on twenty feet. "I got an extra gun--" said he. "Thanks," Bob interrupted. "But I'll get organized better when I get home." "Hope you git him," said the old man by way of farewell. "He won't git nothing out of me," he shot back over his shoulder. Bob now knew exactly where he was going. Reinvigorated by the food, the night's rest, and the cool air of these higher altitudes, he made good time. By four o'clock of the afternoon he at last hit the broad, dusty thoroughfare over which were hauled the supplies to Baker's upper works. Along this he swung, hands in pockets, a whistle on his lips, the fine, light dust rising behind his footsteps. The slight down grade released his tired muscles from effort. He was enjoying himself. Then he came suddenly around a corner plump against a horseman climbing leisurely up the grade. Both stopped. If Bob had entertained any lingering doubt as to Oldham's complicity in his abduction, the expression on the land agent's face would have removed it. For the first time in public Oldham's countenance expressed a livelier emotion than that of cynical interest. His mouth fell open and his eyeglasses dropped off. He stared at Bob as though that young man had suddenly sprung into visibility from clear atmosphere. Bob surveyed him grimly. "Delighted to see me, aren't you?" he remarked. A slow anger surged up within him. "Your little scheme didn't work, did it? Wanted me out of the way, did you? Thought you'd keep me out of court! Well, I'm here, just as I said I'd be here. You can pay your villainous tool or kick him out, as you please. He's failed, and he won't get another chance. You miserable whelp!" But Oldham had recovered his poise. "Get out of my way. I don't know what you are talking about. I'll land you in the penitentiary a week after you appear in court. You're warned." "Oh, I've been warned for some time. But first I'll land you." "Really! How?" "Right here and now," said Bob stepping forward. Oldham reined back his horse, and drew from his side pocket a short, nickel-plated revolver. "Let me pass!" he commanded harshly. He presented the weapon, and his gray eyes contracted to pin points. "Throw that thing away," said Bob, laying his hand on the other man's bridle. "_I'm going to give you the very worst licking you ever heard tell of!_" The young man's muscles were tense with the expectation of a shot. To his vast astonishment, at his last words Oldham turned deadly pale, swayed in the saddle, and the revolver clattered past his stirrup to fall in the dust. With a snarl of contempt at what he erroneously took for a mere physical cowardice, Bob reached for his enemy and dragged him from the saddle.