"Megget can fire the prairie if he wants to, I won't. I'm none too stuck on cattle raiding, anyhow, but when it comes to starting a fire that will probably wipe out the Half-Moon outfit and perhaps even the herd, Bobby Lawrence balks!"
"Showing the white feather, eh?" snarled his companion. "I warned Gus you wasn't any good, but he wouldn't believe me. You'll do what he says, though, as long as you're with Red Ike!"
Red Ike was a giant in strength, the bully of the gang, and Lawrence had seen too much of him to care to risk an encounter with him, so with a growl he said:
"All right. Lead the way."
"Not much. I'll ride beside you, so you won't come any tricks."
But though Lawrence had appeared to yield, it was only as a matter of policy, and his determination not to fire the prairie was as firm as before. Yet how he could prevent it, he was at a loss to determine until suddenly he remembered that Red Ike had asked him for a match that afternoon.
As the thought flashed through his mind that his companion had no means for carrying out Megget's instructions Lawrence put his hand to his belt, where he carried his tobacco outfit, and quickly unloosening it, let it fall into the grass.
None too soon was his action, for even as he opened his hand to let go of the pouch that held his pipe, tobacco and cigarette papers Red Ike snapped:
"I reckon we've gone a mile." And as he turned to look back the signal sounded, and in a trice he saw the flames, set by his leader, leap in the air.
"Quick, Gus has touched off!" he cried, then added as he felt in vain for any matches, "Gimme some of your fire-sticks, mine are all gone."