"You've got your nerve," cried one of the men in a rage; and another
demanded: "Where did you get that hawss?"

"Why, I got it--" The young man stopped in the middle of his sentence.
His jaw clamped and his eyes grew hard. "I expect you better explain
what right you got to ask that question."

The man laughed without cordiality. "Seeing as I have owned it three
years I allow I have some right."

"What's the use of talking? He's the man we want, broke in another
impatiently.

"Who is the man you want?" asked their prisoner.

"You're the man we want, Jim Kinney."

"Wrong guess. My name is Larry Neill. I'm from the Panhandle and I've
never been in this part of the country till two days ago."

"You may have a dozen names. We don't care what you call yourself. Of
course you would deny being the man we're after. But that don't go
with us."

"All right. Take me back to Fort Lincoln, or take me to the prison
officials. They will tell you whether I am the man."

The leader of the party pounced on his slip. "Who mentioned prison?
Who told you we wanted an escaped prisoner?"