“They’d pull off a couple of hold-ups, then they’d ride off to one of these squatter places and lay up for ten days, maybe, drinkin’ and feedin’ up themselves and their hosses.  That was the only way they was ever caught.  They was killed off by each other, fighting about the split-up, or something like that.

“But now and then a gang held together long enough to raise so much hell that they got known from one end of the range to the other.  Mostly they held together because they had a leader who knew how to handle ’em and who kept ’em under his thumb.  That was the way with old Piotto.

“He had five men under him.  They was all hell-benders who had ridden the range alone and had their share of fights and killings, which there wasn’t one of ’em that wouldn’t have been good enough to go leader in any other crew, but they had to knuckle under to old Piotto.  He was a great gunman and he was pretty good in scheming up ways of dodging the law and picking the best booty.  He had these five men, and then he had his daughter, Joan.  She was better’n two ordinary men herself.

“Three years that gang held together and got rich—­fair rich.  They made it so fast they couldn’t even gamble the stuff away.  About a thousand times, I guess posses went out after Piotto, but they never came back with a trace of ’em; they never got within shootin’ distance.  Finally Piotto got so confident that he started raidin’ ranches and carryin’ off members of well-off ranchers to hold for ransom.  That was the easiest way of makin’ money; it was also pretty damned dangerous.

“One time they held up a stage and picked off of it two kids who was comin’ out from the East to try their hands in the cattle business.  They was young, they looked like gentlemen, they was dressed nifty, and they packed big rolls.  So wise old Piotto took ’em off into the hills and held ’em till their folks back East could wire out the money to save ‘em.  That was easy money for Piotto, but that was the beginnin’ of the end for him; because while they was waitin’, them two kids seen Joan and seen her good.

“I been telling you she was better’n two common men.  She was.  Which means she was equal to about ten ordinary girls.  There’s still a legend about how beautiful Joan Piotto was—­tall and straight and big black eyes and terrible handy with her gun.  She could ride anything that walked and she didn’t know what fear meant.

“These two kids seen her.  One of ’em was William Drew; one of ’em was John Bard.”

He turned to Anthony and saw that the latter was stern of face.  He had surely scored his point.

“Same name as yours, eh?” he asked, to explain his turning.

“It’s a common enough name,” murmured Bard.

“Well, them two had come out to be partners, and there they was, fallin’ in love with the same girl.  So when they got free they put their heads together—­bein’ uncommon wise kids—­and figured it out this way.  Neither of ’em had a chance workin’ alone to get Joan way from her father’s gang, but workin’ together they might have a ghost of a show.  So they decided to stay on the trail of Piotto till they got Joan.  Then they’d give her a choice between the two of ’em and the one that lost would simply back off the boards.