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"Hasn't he lived up here long?" asked one of the men, busy with

some bacon over a fire.

"They say not."

"He's a heavy-set fellow, with reddish hair; not so tall as you,

I reckon, and some heavier. Was wearing chaps and gauntlets when

he made his getaway. From the description, he looks something

like you, I shouldn't wonder."

Fraser congratulated himself that he had had the foresight to

discard as many as possible of these helps to identification

before he was three miles from Gimlet Butte. Now he laughed

pleasantly.

"Sure he's heavier than me, and not so tall."

"It would be a good joke, Bud, if they took you back to town for

this man," cut in Arlie, troubled at the direction the

conversation was taking, but not obviously so.

"I ain't objecting any, sis. About three days of the joys of town

would sure agree with my run-down system," the Texan answered

joyously.

"When you cowpunchers do get in, you surely make Rome howl," one

of the deputies agreed, with a grin. "Been in to the Butte

lately?"