The following morning, and before anybody was astir at Bar X ranch, the form of a man emerged from the bunkhouse and looking cautiously around to make sure that no one was watching him, stealing silently to the corral, he quickly roped and saddled one of the horses. It was MacNutt, and had any of the cowboys seen his face at that moment they would have been amazed. All trace of the half-wit smile had vanished, and in place of the drooping shoulders and shambling gait that had been characteristic of the man, he now moved with the cunning and quickness of a panther.
As his supple body shot into the saddle a pair of revolver butts were exposed to view for an instant. Whatever MacNutt’s mission was, the man was going heavily armed. He rode leisurely as though fearful the noise of his horse’s hoofbeats might strike the ears of some early prowler of the ranch.
When well clear of the outbuildings of the ranch he gave his horse free rein, riding with all the ease and grace of a cowboy. Ten miles from Bar X ranch the trail divided. One trail led to Trader’s Post and the other to Ricker’s ranch.
When MacNutt came to this point, he chose the trail leading to the Ricker ranch!
A grim smile spread over the man’s face.
“I don’t suppose it was necessary for me to sneak out in this fashion,” he spoke softly to his horse, “none of the Bar X outfit take me seriously, only young Mason. I will have to watch out for him, he’s liable to spoil my plans.”
His face grew dark and ominous at the thought. Having a fresh mount he pressed the horse on relentlessly as though to reach the ranch in time to keep an appointment. Time and distance passed swiftly beneath his horse’s pounding hoofs, and when within a few miles of Ricker’s ranch he carefully examined his guns to see if they were in good working order.
As he drew near Ricker’s ranch his tense muscles relaxed, the half-wit smile appeared and with it the awkward poise and drooping shoulders of the man MacNutt. Although he did not know it, his movements had been watched by a guard placed by Ricker.
This man swept the plains with field glasses and word was quickly sent to Ricker by the guard for instructions. He was promptly ordered to hold the rider up at any cost. Since the last time Ricker had been visited by the cowboys of the Bar X ranch, he swore an oath that no more of them should pass farther than a given spot and that was where he had placed the guard.
Ricker had picked a good man for the job, for when he was in a quandary as to who should hold the post, his eyes fell on one of his cowboys, Tug Conners by name, and he was placed about a hundred yards from the ranch where he could command a view of the plains in all directions.