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 "I guess you'll have to go with him. He ain't got sense enough to last him from here to Lost Cabin."

Peck came jolting up, leaning back on the reins, which he held shoulder-high, bringing the horse to a sliding stop. The little roan shook its head in surly protest of this treatment, rolling its wall eyes in an effort to see what kind of a man was in the saddle.

"Say!" Peck began, fairly sweating excitement, "I'm game! I'll take you on!"

This was an unexpected turn, for which Tippie was unprepared, as Rawlins could see. It had come when the foreman had concluded Peck disposed of, and out of the way for good.

"Say," Peck went ahead, scarcely breathing in his hurry to get it out of his chest, "I believe you've been stringin' me, right along, about them other fellers. I'm here to call your bluff. You've got to show me where the danger is cuttin' that fool fence and ridin' in there—you've got to show me!"

"All right," Tippie agreed, that being one incidental, at least, over which there would be no difficulty, chancing that one of the fence-riders was somewhere around. "We'll go back."