the head of the ravine. One of the men in the loft roared a hail.
"That you, Henry?"
"Yea-a, that's me Henry. Come on out o' there, you two bums!"
Henry replied with the cheerful bandiage of a man who had risen thriftily before his mates, and Simpson thought that was rather a humorous bunch to be engaged in such sordid business. Anyway, there was at least another man on the place, and that plan for picking them off the ladder would not do. There were three of them, at least, and that woman, who sounded as if she might be the best man among them, as well as boss of the ranch. The one thing to do was trust to luck, wait till they went to the house to eat, then go back to his horse.
Noah and Dan came down the ladder presently, Simpson scarcely breathing as he watched them, his heart beating low. He already had identified Noah by his name and voice as one of the gang who had followed him to the ranch; now he also recognized the one called Dan as a member of the same distinguished company. While it would not have been exactly the sportsmanly thing to do from cover, Simpson thought, he had no reservations of conscience which held him from putting an end to their activities where they stood. Only policy restrained him. It would not be the wise thing to do.
Simpson was near the center of the stable, thirty or forty feet from where the ladder ran up to the loft. He backed into the stall, crouching under the horse's neck, hoping the two men would not precipitate a crisis by coming down the line to inspect their stolen goods.
