't think so," replied Venters, decidedly. "Jane, your riders
haven't gone out in the sage."

"Bern, what do you mean?" Jane Withersteen turned deathly pale.

"You remember what I said about the unseen hand?"

"Oh!... Impossible!"

"I hope so. But I fear--" Venters finished, with a shake of his head.

"Bern, you're bitter; but that's only natural. We'll wait to see what's
happened to my riders. Judkins, come to the house with me. Your wound
must be attended to."

"Jane, I'll find out where Oldring drives the herd," vowed Venters.

"No, no! Bern, don't risk it now--when the rustlers are in such shooting
mood."

"I'm going. Jud, how many cattle in that red herd?"

"Twenty-five hundred head."

"Whew! What on earth can Oldring do with so many cattle? Why, a hundred
head is a big steal. I've got to find out."

"Don't go," implored Jane.

"Bern, you want a hoss thet can run. Miss Withersteen, if it's not too
bold of me to advise, make him take a fast hoss or don't let him go."

"Yes, yes, Judkins. He must ride a horse that can't be caught. Which
one--Black Star--Night?"

"Jane, I won't take either," said Venters, emphatically. "I wouldn't
risk losing one of your favorites."

"Wrangle, then?"

"Thet's the hoss," replied Judkins. "Wrangle can outrun Black Star an'
Night. You'd never believe it, Miss Withersteen, but I know. Wrangle's
the biggest en' fastest hoss on the sage."

"Oh no, Wrangle can't beat Black Star. But, Bern, take Wrangle if you
will go. Ask Jerd for anything you need. Oh, be watchful careful.... God
speed you."

She clasped his hand, turned quickly away, and went down a lane with the
rider.

Venters rode to the barn, and, leaping off, shouted for Jerd. The boy
came running. Venters sent him for meat, bread, and dried fruits, to
be packed in saddlebags. His own horse he turned loose into the nearest
corral. Then he went for Wrangle. The giant sorrel had earned his name
for a trait the opposite of amiability. He came readily out of the barn,
but once in the yard he broke from Venters, and plunged about with ears
laid back. Venters had to rope him, and then he kicked down a section
of fence, stood on his hind legs, crashed down and fought the rope. Jerd
returned to lend a hand.

"Wrangle don't git enough work," said Jerd, as the big saddle went on.
"He's unruly when he's corralled, an' wants to run. Wait till he smells
the sage!"

"Jerd, this horse is an iron-jawed devil. I never stradd