"What's in the letter?" asked Fred.
"I don't know. It's sealed up."
"I think we'd be justified in breaking it open," put in Songbird. "Those rascals are outlaws!"
"No! no! don't break it open!" burst out Tom, and snatched the communication from the old man's hand. "I've got a better plan."
"What plan?" came from his friends.
"Didn't you say that I looked like your son Bud?" asked Tom of Bill Cashaw.
"I did."
"Has Bud ever been to Red Rock ranch?"
"Three or four times, but not lately."
"Does Sack Todd know him?"
"Yes, but not very well."
"Then that settles it," announced the fun-loving Rover. "I, as Bud Cashaw, am going to deliver the letter at the ranch."
"Tom, that's too risky!" cried Fred.
"I don't think so. I can tell them that the letter was left for father"—pointing to Bill Cashaw—"after he started for the ranch. I don't see how they can help but swallow the story."
"Yes, but see here—" interrupted the old man. "This ain't fair. I want you to understand"
"I know what I am doing, Mr. Cashaw, and you had better keep quiet. Watch him, fellows."
Without loss of time, Tom made his prepara-
