"I've got an engagement to meet your father and he won't let me go," blurted out Fox.
"When did you make that hurry-up appointment, Chet?" laughed Dingwell. "You didn't seem in no manner of hurry when you was lying in the mesquite back there at Lonesome Park."
"You've got no business to keep him here. He can go if he wants to," flashed the young woman.
"You hear that, Chet. You can go if you want to," murmured Dave with good-natured irony.
"Said he'd shoot me in the back if I hit the trail any faster," Fox snorted to the girl.
"He wouldn't dare," flamed Beulah Rutherford.
Her sultry eyes attacked Dingwell.
He smiled, not a whit disturbed. "You see how it is, Chet. Maybe I will; maybe I won't. Be a sport and you'll find out."
For a minute the three rode in silence except for the sound of the horses moving. Beulah did not fully understand the situation, but it was clear to her that somehow Dingwell was interfering with a plan of her people. Her untamed youth resented the high-handed way in which he seemed to be doing it. What right had he to hold Chet Fox a prisoner at the point of a rifle?
She asked a question flatly. "Have you got a warrant for Chet's arrest?"