heavy log building. Not content with using his fist he banged away with the toe of his cowhide boot.
"Who's thar?" came from within presently.
"Mr. Dottery!"
"That's me, stranger."
"Come out. It's Paul Winthrop. There are horse thieves at your barn."
"What!" roared Dottery. He was a heavy-built man, with a voice like a giant. "The same chaps ez robbed you?"
He unbarred the door and came out on a run, gun in hand and a long pistol in his belt. He was an old settler, and rarely took the trouble to undress when he went to rest for the night.
"Yes, the same, unless I am very much mistaken. My brother Chet is down there now on the watch."
"I'll fix 'em. Go back and call Jack, my man."
Paul hesitated and then did as directed. It took some time to arouse the cowboy, Jack Blowfen, but once aroused, the man quickly took in the situation, and arming himself, joined the boy in a rush after Dottery.
"The pesky rascals!" he muttered. "Yer brother told us about 'em when he stopped here
