He gazed in awe at the far-flung ranges, and continued spellbound until the stage rolled down into another valley. It pulled into a picturesque little hamlet and came to a stop before a low one-story inn.

“Concha,” called the driver. “Only an’ last call for lunch.”

Mrs. Jones awoke and Miss Hepford came out of her own reverie. Ernest pulled the wide brim of his sombrero far down over his eyes. He divined, as the girl turned around, that she meant to speak to him.

2

ALL Selby could see of the young redheaded lady from under his sombrero was her shapely, gloved hand, in the extended palm of which lay some silver coins. “Please get me some ham sandwiches,” she was saying.

Ernest took the money, mumbling his pleasure, and leaping out of the stage he went into the tavern. A buxom, middle-aged woman delivered the sandwiches to him, not without a speculative glance. The Iowan was thinking that he might as well not seek any longer to deceive the young lady in the stage; and he went out with his sombrero tipped back and a smile on his face.

But Miss Hepford was not looking and did not notice him until he handed her the sandwiches. Then her green eyes opened wide with a puzzled, searching expression. The look of surprise changed into a twinkle. “Well!” she ejaculated, and then she laughed outright. Her vanity had been tickled. Ernest surmised at once that she imagined he had followed her and that such circumstances were customary in her range life. Her assumption nettled him. He watched her whispering something to her companion, who exclaimed: “For land’s sake!” After which Mrs. Jones gave Ernest the benefit of an amused stare. Not to be outdone, Selby returned the compliment with a smile and a wink.

At this juncture the two tough hombres in the second seat ahead claimed Ernest’s attention. It struck him that his return had been untimely for them. Probably with the stage driver and himself absent they had thought the time propitious for the planned move.

The larger of the two, a hulking fellow with hard eyes and a beard that did not hide his cruel lips and craggy chin, shoved a dollar at Ernest.

“Hey, sonny, fetch us some of the same,” he said.

Ernest shoved the dirty hand away.

“Hey yourself. Who was your dogrobber this time last year?” he retorted.

Both men seemed to take distinct umbrage at this rebuff, or at the refusal which may have militated against an opportunity to carry out their plan.

“You insultin’ hayseed of a Mizzouri tenderfoot!” ejaculated the one who had requested the sandwiches.

“Make him get them sandwiches, Bill, or bust his pretty mug,” growled the other hombre.

Whereupon Bill threw a silver dollar at Selby who was standing by the back wheel. It struck him hard and jingled on the hard ground.

“Pick thet up an’ fetch them sandwiches,” he ordered.

“Say, you are a couple of lazy skunks,” replied Ernest angrily.

Bill started to clamber out of the stage, coming over the wheel instead of passing the women, who had now become aware of the argument and were watching the three men intently. Out of the tail of his eye Selby saw Miss Hepford watching him and that certainly added to his determination not to back down. He quite forgot that he carried a gun or he would have found the moment a judicious one to draw it. He sensed battle and with the girl looking on he was eager to give these thugs all the fight they wanted.

Once upon the ground, Bill picked up his dollar and pocketed it. Then he shot out a hand to clutch Ernest’s shirt.

“Come along hyar. I’ll show you who’s a skunk,” he growled, and then turned to give his companion a meaningful glance. The latter, acting upon it, stood up. He was a short, stocky man with yellow eyes and teeth that protruded.

“Let go,” ordered Selby sharply, and with a powerful wrench he freed himself. With the same movement he swung a heavy fist.