"He must 'a' heard us comin' and pulled out," Barney said.

"Then he's back in the red rocks," boomed West triumphantly.

"Soon find out." Brad Stearns turned the head of his horse toward the
rocks and shouted. "Hello, Tom! You there?"

No answer came from the rocks.

"Don't prove a thing," West broke out impatiently. "This fellow's got
Tom buffaloed. Didn't he make him smash the barrels? Didn't he take
away his six-gun from him and bring him along like he hadn't any mind
of his own? Tom's yellow. Got a streak a foot wide."

"Nothin' of the kind," denied Stearns, indignation in his voice. "I
done brought up that boy by hand--learned him all he knows about
ridin' and ropin'. He'll do to take along."

"Hmp! He always fooled you, Brad. Different here. I'm aimin' to give
him the wallopin' of his life when I meet up with him. And that'll be
soon, if he's up there in the rocks. I'm goin' a-shootin'." Bully West
drew his revolver and rode forward.

The constable had disposed of his forces so that behind the cover of
the sandstone boulders they commanded the approach. He had tried to
persuade Jessie that this was not her fight, but a question from her
had silenced him.

"If that Bully West finds me here, after he's killed you, d' you think
I can get him to let me go because it wasn't my fight?"