the ground as soon as he. Gowan stared at him between narrowed lids, and replied to the girl somewhat shortly: “I didn’t get him this time, Miss Chuckie.”
“You didn’t? That’s too bad! You don’t often miss. I wish you had been with me, to run down the scoundrel who tried to murder Mr. Ashton.”
Gowan burst into the harsh, strained laughter of one who seldom gives way to mirth. He checked himself abruptly and cast a hostile look at Ashton. “By––James, Miss Chuckie, you don’t mean to say you let a tenderfoot string you?”
“How about this?” asked the girl. She held out the silver flask, which she had not returned to Ashton.
Gowan gave it a casual glance, and answered almost 66 jeeringly: “Easy enough for him to set it up and plug it––if he didn’t get too far away.”
“His rifle is a thirty-two. This was done by a thirty-eight,” she replied.
“Thirty-eight?” he repeated. “Let’s see.” He took the flask from her, drew a rifle cartridge from his belt, and fitted the steel-jacketed bullet into the clean, small hole. “You’re right, Miss Chuckie. It shore was a thirty-eight.” He turned sharply on Ashton. “Where’d it happen? Who was it?”
“Over on that dry stream,” answered Ashton. “Unfortunately the fellow was too far away for me to be able to describe him.”
“But we think it may have been his guide,” explained the girl.
“Guide?” muttered Gowan, staring intently at Ashton.
“Yes. You see, if he was mean enough to help steal Mr. Ashton’s outfit, he––”
“Shore, I savvy!” exclaimed the puncher. “I’ll rope a couple of fresh hawsses, and go out with Mr. Ashton after the two-legged wolf.”
“That’s like you, Kid! But you must wait at least until you’ve both had dinner. Mr. Ashton, I’m sure, is half starved.”
“Me, too, Miss Chuckie. But you know I’d rather eat a wolf or a rustler or even a daring desperado than sinkers and beans, any day.” 67
“You’ll come in with us and see what Daddy has to say about it,” the girl insisted.
She started to loosen her saddle-cinch. Gowan handed back the silver flask, and stripping off saddle and bridle from her horse, placed them on the rail beside his own. Ashton waited, as if expecting a like service. The puncher started off beside Miss Isobel without looking at him. Ashton flushed hotly, and hastened to do his own unsaddling.
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