“No, not exactly here,” answered Ned quickly, a sudden line of conduct occurring to him.  “Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for you, I am all alone.  But when my friends do find out what has happened you’d better look out.  You’ll be riddled so full of holes that the wind will sigh through your body as if it were a sieve.”

“How’s Captain Billy?” demanded the man sharply.

“Captain Billy?” wondered Ned.

“Yes.  You needn’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I most certainly do not.  Who is Captain Billy?”

“Know Joe Withem?”

“I do not.  Some friend of yours, I suppose?”

An angry exclamation escaped the lips of the mountaineer.

“I reckon they’re no friends of mine.  I reckon, too, that you’ll be answering my questions or you’ll be hiking for the Happy Hunting Grounds in about ten minutes from now.  I haven’t got all night to sit here talking with you.  I’ve got to git through with you; then I’m going to finish the rest of your crowd.  You fellows thought you’d play a sharp trick on me, eh?”

“You are mistaken.  We did not even know of your existence until you began shooting at us.  Why did you do that?”

“If you don’t know, I reckon you’ll have to guess.  Bill McKay must think we’re easy down here, to try a game like that.”

“I’ll tell him when I see him,” nodded Ned.

“I reckon you won’t see him right smart.  When I git through with you I’m going to send a bullet through your head.  Maybe they’ll find you here.  If they do they’ll know what it means, I reckon.”

Ned’s face paled slightly.  There was that in the eyes of the man before him which, all at once, told Ned Rector that the fellow meant what he said.

“Who do you think we are?” demanded the boy earnestly.

“You’re part of the Ranger gang.”

“The what?”

“The gang known as the Texas Rangers.”

Rector laughed.

“You’ve got it wrong this time.  We are not Texas Rangers.  We are known as the Pony Riders and we are out for our health and as good a time as we can have.”

“Ye can’t fool me.  That line of talk don’t go down at all I’ll tell you what.  Bill McKay thought to trap some folks by getting in a bunch that wasn’t known down in these parts.  I had his little game sized up the minute I set eyes on your bunch.  But I’ll clip your claws.  I’ll show McKay that we ain’t so easy.  Now you out with the whole story.  If you tell it straight, I may think about letting you go.  If you lie it’s the end of you.  I’d as lief shoot you full of holes as I would a yellow dog.  Now what’s your orders?”

“I haven’t any orders, I tell you.”

“What did Bill McKay reckon you would do down here?”

“I don’t know Bill McKay, I don’t know any Texas Rangers, and if they are anything like you and your kind, I don’t want to know them.  But I do want to tell you that if you don’t let me go—–­that if you heap any more insults on me—–­it is you who will get a bullet through your miserable hide.  I’m getting mad, Mr. Man.”