“Shut up, or I’ll pump lead into you,” he warned hoarsely.

The cattleman on the bed shook his head.  “You’d like to fill me full of buckshot, but it wouldn’t do at all, Dan.  I’m the goose that lays the golden eggs, in a way of speaking.  Gun me, and it’s good-bye to that twenty thousand in the gunnysack.”  He turned cheerfully to Rutherford, who was standing in the doorway.  “Come right in, Hal.  Glad to see you.  Make yourself at home.”

“He’s deviling me all the time,” Meldrum complained to the owner of the horse ranch.  “I ain’t a-going to stand it.”

Rutherford looked at the prisoner, a lean, hard-bitten Westerner with muscles like steel ropes and eyes unblinking as a New Mexico sun.  His engaging recklessness had long since won the liking of the leader of the Huerfano Park outlaws.

“Don’t bank on that golden egg business, Dave,” advised Rutherford.  “If you tempt the boys enough, they’re liable to forget it.  You’ve been behaving mighty aggravating to Dan.”

“Me!” Dave opened his eyes in surprise.  “I was just asking him how he’d like to go back to Santa Fe after you-all turn me loose.”

“We’re not going to turn you loose till we reach an agreement.  What’s the use of being pigheaded?  We’re looking for that gold and we’re going to find it mighty soon.  Now be reasonable.”

“How do you know you’re going to find it?”

“Because we know you couldn’t have taken it far.  Here’s the point.  You had it when Fox made his getaway.  Beulah was right behind you, so we know you didn’t get a chance to bury it between there and town.  We covered your tracks and you didn’t leave the road in that half-mile.  That brings you as far as Battle Butte.  You had the gunnysack when you crossed the bridge.  You didn’t have it when Slim Sanders met you.  So you must have got rid of it in that distance of less than a quarter of a mile.  First off, I figured you dropped the sack in Hague’s alfalfa field.  But we’ve tramped that all over.  It’s not there.  Did you meet some one and give it to him?  Or how did you get rid of it?”

“I ate it,” grinned Dingwell confidentially.

“The boys are getting impatient, Dave.  They don’t like the way you butted in.”

“That’s all right.  You’re responsible for my safety, Hal.  I’ll let you do the worrying.”

“Don’t fool yourself.  We can’t keep you here forever.  We can’t let you go without an agreement.  Figure out for yourself what’s likely to happen?”

“Either my friends will rescue me, or else I’ll escape.”

“Forget it.  Not a chance of either.”  Rutherford stopped, struck by an idea.  “Ever hear of a young fellow called Cherokee Street?”

“No.  Think not.  Is he a breed?”

“White man.”  Rutherford took a chair close to Dingwell.  He leaned forward and asked another question in a low voice.  “Never happened to meet the son of John Beaudry, did you?”