who was from his appearance a prairie farmer. The man at the table was
lean and weather-bronzed, with grizzled hair and observant eyes. They
were fixed steadily upon the farmer, who knew that very little which
happened upon the prairie escaped the vigilance of Sergeant Stimson.

"It's straight talk you're giving me, Larry? What do you figure on
making by it?" he said.

The farmer laughed mirthlessly, "Not much, any way, beyond the chance
of getting a bullet in me back; or me best steer lifted one dark night,
'Tis not forgiving the rustlers are, and Courthorne's the divil," he
said. "But listen now, Sergeant, I've told ye where he is, and if
ye're not fit to corral him I'll ride him down meself."

Sergeant Stimson wrinkled his forehead. "If anybody knows what they're
after, it should be you," he said, watching the man out of the corner
of his eyes. "Still, I'm a little worried as to why, when you'll get
nothing for it, you're anxious to serve the State."

The farmer clenched a big hand. "Sergeant, you that knows everything,
will ye drive me mad--an' to ---- with the State!" he said. "Sure,
it's gospel I'm telling ye, an', as you're knowing well, it's me could
tell where the boys who ride at midnight drop many a keg. Well, if ye
will have your reason, it was Courthorne who put the black shame on me
an' mine."

Sergeant Stimson nodded, for he had already suspected this.

"Then," he said dryly, "we'll give you a chance of helping us to put
the handcuffs on him. Now, because they wouldn't risk the bridge, and