In less than an hour Buck and his party were assured that they had nothing to fear from any trailing Circle Bar riders. They rode through the hills and gained the farther slopes of the divide, with the rolling river flat beyond.  
Here Buck drew rein, pointing.
 
There was no need for words, although Jake Harper, with recovered vocabulary, spilled pardonable curses upon the air. To the-north was ascending a stream of heavy smoke that rose straight into the windless sky.
 
"They done it," said Sandy Davitt briefly.
 
"Two of you boys stay here with Jake," ordered Buck to his five. "If you don't get no word from me by dark, turn Jake loose and make your getaway. If I win, I'll send word to ye 'fore dark."
 
Nobody wanted to remain, so straws were pulled. The losers, disgruntled, took over the prisoner's bridle and sat their horses while Buck, Sandy Davitt, and the remaining two men rode on.
 
"Good luck!" they called. Buck responded with a wave of his white Stetson.
 
The four men who were left in company now pushed their horses ahead at a good clip. Two miles away was the river trail, which Arnold and Sam Fisher would follow, provided they did the expected thing.
 
"Gosh, she's sure a-smoking!" observed Sandy Davitt, his squint gaze flitting to the smoke in the north. "They done it, all right. Fired everything in sight! I'll bet Jake will curse over losin' his first cuttin' of alfalfa. He only laid it in last week."
 
Buck smiled weakly, but made no response. If he lost his stake, he would lose more than alfalfa.
 
Knowing to what manner of work they rode, the four pressed on warily, eyes searching the landscape ahead. They were unlikely to meet any one here. The Lazy S and Circle Bar lands ran together at a short distance, and the river road was only a trail used by the few riders of the two ranches.
 
They came upon it at last, and simultaneously drew rein. The trail told them a plain story; no one had passed this way within the past few hours, at least.
 
"What you aim to do?" asked one of the punchers as they sat motionless. "Rope him?"
 
"Rope him?" Buck spat a vicious oath. "We'd look fine ropin' that gent—and Arnold! What would we want to rope 'em for?"
 
Sandy Davitt laughed harshly. He swung up his arm to a bend in the road fifty yards to their left.
 
"Stick right here, Buck, and drop 'em as they come around that bend. Don't need the rifles to do it. Better hobble the cayuses in this bresh."
 
Buck nodded assent. A better place for the ambush could not be found.
 
The four men dismounted. One of the punchers led off the animals. The other three went to the river bank, here a scant hundred yards distant, and slaked their thirst. Upon rising, Buck gave his orders.
 
"We'd better spread out jest far enough to keep an eye out in both directions. I'll watch the south for 'em, Sandy, attend to the Circle Bar end; ain't likely any one will come, but we'd better watch that way, too."
 
Sandy Davitt swung off, followed by his companion.
 
Buck sought a position whence he could obtain a fair view of the valley in the direction of the Shumway ranch. He did not need to have the winding road in view. Even this slightly used trail was deep in dust, and any rider would leave a brown smudge that would rise into a trailing wedge to be discerned afar.
 
The horses were hidden away from sight among the trees that fringed the river. To the north the great splotch of smoke had lessened into a thin trail; Harper's place was burned out. It could not be long now before Fisher would come—if he came at all.
 
"Hey, Buck!" rose the cautious voice of Davitt. "Rider from the north!"
 
"Comin'," responded Buck hastily, and ran to join his men.
 
The north trail was nearly hidden from them, but they could make out a trail of dust, and presently the swiftly moving object which had drawn the attention of Davitt. As this object came closer Davitt uttered an impatient exclamation.
 
"Ain't no rider at all! By gosh, it's a hoss!"
 
"It's Jake Harper's hoss, Celestine," added Buck, watching the approaching beast.
 
"He got away from us when we nabbed Jake yestiddy," said Sandy Davitt. "Git a rope, boys——"
 
"Stop!" ordered Buck. "Git off the trail, quick; leave the brute go through! It'll fetch Sam Fisher jest that much quicker."
 
They hastened to clear the way. A moment more and the pound of hoofs came to them, and along the trail dashed the rawboned brute at a mad gallop, his vicious eyes rolling wildly, panic driving him. He was past them like a whirlwind, and went pounding away to the south.
 
"Fire scart him," said Davitt, emerging into the road again. "Good idee to let him go, Buck. Scatter out, everybody! Keep yer eyes skinned!"
 
It was only a moment later that Buck's voice rose warningly:
 
"Dust a-comin', boys! Git together!"
 
Excitement spurred them as they ran in to the place of ambush. From here they had a view of the road farther down the river; they stood motionless, guns drawn, tense with expectation. Davitt and Buck were together on one side of the road, the other two men opposite them.
 
Into the patch of road down the river crept a moving object, dust trailing it. From Davitt broke one astounded oath.
 
"Look............