"He sent me--" "You've met Aiken!" exclaimed MacNelly, sharp, eager, low.

"By all that's bully!" Then he appeared to catch himself, to grow restrained.
"Men, fall back, leave us alone a moment." The rangers slowly withdrew.
"Buck Duane! It's you ?" he whispered, eagerly.
"Yes." "If I give my word you'll not be arrested--you'll be treated fairly--will you come into camp and consult with me ?" "Certainly." "Duane, I'm sure glad to meet you," went on MacNelly; and he extended his hand.
Amazed and touched, scarcely realizing this actuality, Duane gave his hand and felt no unmistakable grip of warmth.
"It doesn't seem natural, Captain MacNelly, but I believe I'm glad to meet you," said Duane, soberly.
"You will be.

Now we'll go back to camp.

Keep your identity mum for the present." He led Duane in the direction of the camp-fire.
"Pickers, go back on duty," he ordered, "and, Beeson, you look after this horse." When Duane got beyond the line of mesquite, which had hid a good view of the camp-site, he saw a group of perhaps fifteen rangers sitting around the fires, near a long low shed where horses were feeding, and a small adobe house at one side.
"We've just had grub, but I'll see you get some.

Then we'll talk," said MacNelly.