"Dog it, Jack, we got to go after the Dinsmores," said Ellison, pounding the table with his fist. "I've just had a letter from the old man wantin' to know why we don't get results. It's not the Ranger policy to wait for outlaws to come to us. We go after 'em."
Tex smiled cheerfully. "Suits me fine. What are your instructions, Captain? Want me to arrest Homer Dinsmore again?"
"What would I do with him if you got him?" snapped the old-timer.
"You could turn him loose again," suggested Roberts, not entirely without sarcasm.
"If you boys were worth the powder to blow you-all up--!" exploded the veteran.
"Instead of bein' a jackpot bunch of triflin' no-account scalawags," murmured Jack.
"--You'd hustle out an' get evidence against 'em."
"Sounds reasonable." The Ranger lifted his heels to the seat of a second chair and rolled him a cigarette.
"You'd find out where they're hidin' the cattle they rustle."
"Are you givin' me an assignment, Captain?"
"You done said it, son. There's a bunch of rustled stock up in the rocks somewheres. You know it. Question is, can you find the cache?"
"I can try."
"Wasn't it you told me once about bumpin' into a rustler doin' business whilst you was ridin' the line?"
"At the mouth of Box Cañon--yes."
"Well, wha's the matter with you scoutin' up Box Cañon an' seein' what you find?"
"They're roostin' up there somewheres. I'll bet a hat on that."
"How many boys you want with you?"
Jack considered. "One. I'll take Ridley if you don't mind."
"He's a tenderfoot," suggested Ellison doubtfully. "Won't be of any help to you a-tall in cutting sign. If you leave him he's liable to get lost. Better take Moser, hadn't you?"
"Rather have Ridley. He doesn't claim to know it all. Besides, we've got to break him in sometime."
"Suits me if he does you. It's yore party."
"We'll start in the mo'nin'."
"The sooner the quicker," agreed the Captain. "I want the old man to know we're not spendin' our time settin' around a office. He's got no call to crawl my hump when you boys are doin' the best you can. Well, go to it, son. See if you-all can get evidence that will stand up so's we can collect that bunch of hawss-thieves."
Before daybreak the two Rangers were on their way. They drove a pack-horse, their supplies loaded on a sawbuck saddle with kyacks. Jack had been brought up in the Panhandle. He knew this country as a seventh-grade teacher does her geography. Therefore he cut across the desert to the cap-rock, thence to Dry Creek, and so by sunset to Box Cañon. At the mouth of the gulch they slept under the stars. As soon as they had cooked their coffee and bacon Roberts stamped out the fire.