Joe, without a word, obeyed, while Cal shrugged his shoulders.
"May be runnin' inter trouble," he grunted.
"If you're scared you can get out," said Nat more sharply than was his wont.
Cal looked angry for a moment, but then his expression changed.
"Yer all right, boy," he said heartily, "and if ther's trouble I'm with you every time."
"Thanks," rejoined Nat simply, "that's the opinion I'd formed of you, Cal."
The car had now left the road and was rolling over the pasture which was by no means as smooth as it had appeared from the mountain road. However, they made good progress and as their shouts and cries had attracted the attention of the group of punchers under the trees, they at least had achieved the delay of the execution. They could now see every detail of the scene, without the aid of the field glasses. But the visage of the intended victim was hidden from them by the circle of wild-looking figures about him. As the Motor Rangers drew closer a big, raw-boned cattle puncher, with a pair of hairy "chaps" on his legs and an immense revolver in his hand, rode toward them. As his figure separated itself from the group Cal gave a low growl.
"Here comes trouble," he grumbled, closing his hand over the well-worn butt of his pistol.
"Howdy, strangers," drawled the newcomer, as he drew within earshot.
"Howdy," nodded the boys, not however, checking the auto.