“Great Scott!” cried Bob.
“Thinks I, there’s sure somethin’ wrong.” Warren smiled grimly. “An’ the trouble was, they knew I’d investigate pretty fast. In about two seconds I felt cold steel pressed against me side. ‘You’ll come right in the house, Warren,’ says Hank. ‘Don’t make no fuss.’ Yes—they had me. I went in.”
“Gee, what an extraordinary tale!” cried Bob.
Warren quickly told of his later experiences. Without delay he was escorted under heavy guard to the cabin in the gulch and confined in the inner room. Hank Styles and his men, although furiously angry, treated him with consideration, and explained that when all their goods were disposed of they would leave the country and notify the police of his whereabouts.
“But it took them a mighty long time to finish up, didn’t it?” exclaimed the Rambler.
“Wal, they probably had a great lot of stuff,” said Jed. “An’ mebbe they had to go a bit slow, too. I wouldn’t wonder if Styles an’ his men knew a lot about the cattle stealin’, besides.”
“Did they leave a guard here?” asked Bob.
“Sure thing.”
A sudden idea had flashed into Bob Somers’ mind. Perhaps the object of the men in drawing lots was to determine which of the three should ride over to the gulch and notify the sentinel to make his escape.
“Did you hear anything unusual last night, Jed?” he asked.