When the summons came to him to “Drop that gun!” it was only a confirmation of his fears.  Yet he jumped as a boy jumps under the unexpected cut of a cane.

The rifle went clattering to the stony trail.  Without being ordered to do so, the hands of the waddy were thrust skyward.

“Why, it’s Tom Dixon!  We’ve made a mistake,” Phyllis discovered; and moved forward from her hiding place.

“We’ve made no mistake.  I told you I’d show you the rustler, and I’ve shown him to you,” Keller answered, as he too stepped forward.  And to Tom, whose hands dropped at sight of Phyllis:  “Better keep them reaching till I get those guns.  That’s right.  Now, you may ’light.”

“What’s got into you?” demanded Dixon, his teeth still chattering.  “Holding up a man for nothing.  Take away that gun you got bent on me!”

“You’re under arrest for rustling, seh,” the cattle detective told him sternly.

“Prove it.  Prove it!” Dixon swung from the saddle, and faced the other doggedly.

“That calf you’re driving now is rustled.  You branded it less than two hours ago in Spring Valley, right by the three cottonwoods below the trail to Yeager’s Spur.”

“How do you know?” cried the startled youth.  And on the heels of that:  “It’s a lie!” He was getting a better grip on his courage.  He spat defiantly a splash of tobacco juice on a flat pebble which his eye found.  “No such thing!  This calf was a maverick.  Ask Phyl.  She’ll tell you I’m no rustler.”

Phyllis said nothing.  Her gaze was very steadily on Tom.

Keller pointed to the evidence which the hoof of the horse had printed on the trail, and to that which the man had written on the pebble.  “We found both these signs once before.  They were left by one of the rustlers operating in this vicinity.  That time it was a Twin Star brand you blotted.  You’ve done a poor job, for I can see there has been another brand there.  Your partner left you with the cow at the entrance to the canon.  Caught red-handed as you have been driving the calf to your place, you’ll find all this aggregates evidence enough to send you to the penitentiary.  Buck Weaver will attend to that.”

“It’s a conspiracy.  You and him mean to railroad me through,” Tom charged sullenly.  “I tell you, Phyllis knows I’m no rustler.”

“I’ve known you were one ever since the day you wanted to go back and tell where Weaver was hidden.  You and your pony scattered the evidence around then, just as you’re doing here,” the ranger answered.

“You’ve got it cooked up to put me through,” Dixon insisted desperately.  “You want to get me out of the way, so you’ll have a clear track with Phyl.  Think I don’t sabe your game?”

The angry color sucked into Keller’s face beneath the tan.  He avoided looking at Phyllis.  “We’ll not discuss that, seh.  But I can say that kind of talk won’t help buy you anything.”