Bertram easily. “I’ve thrown in with you, though it is at the last minute. But, to tell you the truth, I haven’t exactly liked the looks of this scheme very much from the start. You’ve shown too much secrecy about it—getting all these men together under sealed orders.”

“You’ll find it’s got the right brand run on it.”

“All right, but you’ve got to admit I’ve had some grounds for suspicion. The gang you’ve picked up is the worst in this section. You’ve headed the bunch with Tom Hoog, a notorious killer, and the others aren’t much behind him.”

“I like men who can take care of themselves,” replied Swingley.

“Well, you’ve got ’em over there,” went on Bertram, looking into the adjoining waiting room, where, in a haze of blue smoke, many cow-punchers could be seen, lolling about on bed rolls, waiting for the calling of their train.

They were, as Bertram said, a formidable-looking outfit. Nearly every man had a record as a killer. With big pistols slapping at their hips, as they walked, and with rifles in leather scabbards, stacked in the corners of the room, or leaning against the rolls of bedding, the outfit took on the appearance of an armed camp, during a moment of ease.

Tom Hoog, who had been mentioned by Bertram as the leader of this daredevil lot, sat apart from the others, gloomily smoking. He was of medium height, spare but sinewy, with an aquiline nose, which tended to curve downward over a thin-lipped mouth, in which a cigarette was always crimped as in a vise. Hoog’s hands evidently were his pride. They were long and slim, and they had always been kept so well gauntleted that they were as white as a gambler’s. A wonderful shot with rifle or revolver and gifted with uncanny quickness on the “draw,” Hoog had a reputation as a killer that had made his name feared throughout the district.

“Those fellows are all right,” went on Swingley, “but, outside of Hoog, they ain’t oversupplied with brains. That’s the big reason why I wanted to get you. With you and Hoog as my lieutenants I’m goin’ to be sure that things will go right, and my orders will be carried out.”

“Much obliged,” replied Bertram dryly.

“I had you in mind right from the first,” continued Swingley, with a keen glance at the young cattleman’s ingenuous face. “I knowed you had a row with your uncle, old Bill Bertram. Old Bill’s a hard one for any one to get along 

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