"There will be plenty of smoke if we ever do round 'em up, not to
mention a heap of good lead that will be spilled," the sheriff
agreed placidly. "Well, all I got to say is the sooner the
quicker. The bunch borrowed a mighty good .45 of mine I need in
my biz. I kinder hanker to get it back muy pronto."

"Here's hoping," Bucky nodded gayly. "I bet there will be a right
lively wolf hunt. Hello! The car's loaded. All aboard for
Tucson."

The special drew out from the side track and gathered speed. Soon
the rhythmic chant of the rails sounded monotonously, and the
plains on either side of the track swam swiftly to the rear.



CHAPTER 4. A BLUFF IS CALLED

Torpid lay Aravaipa in a coma of sunheat. Its adobe-lined streets
basked in the white glare of an Arizona spring at midday. One or
two Papago Indians, with their pottery wares, squatted in the
shade of the buildings, but otherwise the plaza was deserted. Not
even a moving dog or a lounging peon lent life to the drowsy
square. Silence profound and peace eternal seemed to brood over
the land.

Such was the impression borne in upon the young man riding
townward on a wiry buckskin that had just topped the rise which
commanded the valley below. The rider presented a striking enough
appearance to take and hold the roving eye of any young woman in