heavy snows these bunches were rounded up and driven
to the ranch to winter there. But this time Rennie could find no trace
at all of one bunch.

"It's them three-year-old steers," he said, "that used in between Cat
Creek and the mountain. They sure ain't on the range."

"They must have drifted off. Maybe the feed got short."

"The feed's good yet--never saw it better this time of the year."

"Likely they've gone up one of the big draws off the pass," Angus
suggested.

"Well, I wish you'd tell me which. I've rode every draw for ten miles
each way, and durn' if I can find a hoof."

This was serious. It was up to them to find those steers before the snow
came. Angus had no mind to see them come staggering in in mid-winter,
mere racks of bones; and apart from that he had counted on the proceeds
of their sale to pay Jean's expenses and some of the interest on
Braden's mortgage. Accordingly, he turned himself loose on the range
with Dave and Turkey. They spent the better part of a week in the saddle
and rode half a dozen ponies to a show-down, but of the missing stock
they found never a trace.

"I'll bet somebody's rustled them," Turkey decided.

"Bosh!" said Angus.

"If you're such a darn' wise gazabo, why don't you find 'em?" Turkey
retorted. "What do you think, Dave?"

"Don't know," said Rennie. "Blamed if it don't look like it."

"Rustled--nothing!" Angus exclaimed contemptuously. "There aren't any
rustlers here."

"There never was no rustlers no place till folks began to miss stock,"
Rennie pointed out mildly.

"But who would rustle them?"

"Well, of course that's the thing to find out."

It was a puzzle. Every steer wore the MK, and mistakes of ownership were
out of the question. From calfhood they had summered on that range,
coming in fat and frisky to winter by the generous stacks. There was no
good reason why they should have left it. Not only had the entire range
been combed carefully, but none of the other cattle owners had seen
them.

"If they been rustled," Rennie decided, "it's good bettin' it's Injuns.
Some of the young Siwashes is plenty cultus."

"What could they do with them? They couldn't range them with their own
stock."

"No, but they could drive them south if they was careful about it, and
mix 'em up with the stock of them St. Onge Injuns, and nobody'd be apt
to notice. I've sent word to a feller down there to ride through and
take a look."

In due course Rennie heard from the