"That's right, Phil. He must have had a pardner up at the head-gates. They

had some kind of signal arranged, and when Mr. Hold-up was ready down come

the water and washed out his tracks. It's a blame' smooth piece of

business if you ask me."

"The fellow made two bad breaks, though. That piece of shirt is one. This

foot-print is another. They may land him in the pen yet."

"I don't think it," returned the old man with composure, and as he spoke

his foot erased the telltale print. "I 'low there won't anybody go to the

pen for he'pin himself to Mr. Morse's gold dust. I don't give a cuss who

it was."

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Norris laughed in his low, easy way. "I'm with you, Mr. Lee. We'll make a

thorough job while we're at it and mess up these other tracks. After that

we'll follow the ditch up and see if there's anything doing."

They remounted their broncos and rode them across the tracks several

times, then followed the lateral up, one on either side of the ditch,

their eyes fastened to the ground to see any evidence of a horse having

clambered over the bank. They drew in sight of the ranch house without

discovering what they were looking for. Lee's heart was in his mouth, for

he knew that he would see presently what his eye sought.

"I reckon the fellow went down instead of up," suggested Norris.

"No, he came up."

Lee had stopped and was studying wheel tracks that ran up from the ditch

to his ranch house. His face was very white and set. He pointed to them

with a shaking finger.

"There's where he went in the ditch, and there's where he came out."

Norris forded the stream, cast a casual eye on the double track, and

nodded. He was still in a fog of mystery, but the old man was already

fearing the worst.

He gulped out his fears tremblingly. For himself, he was of a flawless

nerve, but this touched nearer home than his own danger.

"Them wheel-tracks was made by my little gyurl's runabout, Phil."

"Good heavens!" The younger man drew rein sharply and stared at him. "You

don't think----"

He broke off, recalling the sharp, firm little foot-print on the edge of

the ditch some miles below.

"I don't reckon I know what to think. If she was in this, she's got some

good reason." A wave of passion suddenly swept the father. "By God! I'd

like to see the man that dares mix her name up in this."




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