"Th' first tree," growled Slim. "We gives you one chance to save yoreself an' help rid this range of law-breakers. Who got Squint?"
"You go to h—l!" blazed Two-Spot as the ropes tightened. "Take 'em off me!"
"Who got Squint?" repeated Slim, threateningly.
"If I tells, will you let me out of these cussed ropes?" asked the shivering victim.
"We will!"
"Smitty got him," chuckled the captive. "Ask him if you don't believe me. Take 'em off, now!" As soon as he was freed he danced away, wary and anxious, and bumped into Cimarron, whose muscular arms held him as in a vice. "Now, what's th' matter?" blazed Two-Spot, wriggling in vain. "What you reckon yo're goin' to do?"
"We need a tally man on this rustlin' expedition," said Cimarron, "an' we like yore looks. Bring up a cayuse, an' he can go bareback; either that or ride with Art."
"I'm ridin' with Art if I goes, which I ain't aimin' to!" snorted Two-Spot. "I can't count up to more'n ten," he protested.
"You won't have to count at all," Cimarron assured him. "All you got to do is make little pencil marks like a picket fence on a piece of paper, or drop a pebble in yore hat for every cow. You can drop pebbles, can't you?"
"Not very good," deprecated Two-Spot. "I'm too oncertain."