Doug with his long face entirely expressionless, sitting easily sidewise in his saddle; Scott, face flushed, eyes angry, standing tense in the stirrups. There came an ugly twist to Charleton's lips, but after a moment he spoke coolly.
"You fellows help me up on Democrat and we'll beat it for home."
"But you don't believe the Moose—" began Doug. But Charleton interrupted.
"If I wasn't crippled I'd mighty soon show you fellows what I believed. As it is, I'm going home. But if I find either of you has double-crossed me, I'll square accounts."
There was that in Charleton's eyes which caused the two riders to dismount without a word. They heaved him into his saddle and, with his lariat, arranged a sling for his injured ankle. When they had made him as comfortable and secure as possible, Scott said politely:
"You don't need two of us, Charleton. I think I'll go after a bear I saw in the raspberry patch beyond the corral."
"Nothing doing, Scott!" grunted Charleton.
"You've fallen down on the job, Charleton," Scott laughed, "so you've lost your right to boss."
"No, he hasn't," said Douglas. "You come along!"
But this time Doug's six-shooter flashed no more quickly than Scott's. Charleton, his face twisted with pain, waited for a thoughtful minute before he said:
"Put up your guns, boys. Let him go, Doug," and he turned his horse eastward.
Douglas reluctantly returned his gun to his hip and Scott disappeared at a canter. The Moose followed after Democrat.
"What did you do that for, Charleton?" demanded
