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The self-appointed committee for the execution of justice and the

man from the Panhandle looked the prison photographs over

blankly. Between the hard, clean-cut face of their prisoner and

those that looked at them from the photographs it was impossible

to find any resemblance. Duffield handed the prints back with

puzzled chagrin.

"I guess you're right, Steve. But I'd like this gentleman to

explain how come he to be riding the horse one of these

miscreants stole from Maloney's barn last night."

Steve looked at the prisoner. "It's your spiel, friend," he said.