cking them with his quirt. Joe turned his
head and exchanged a smile of meaning with Dutchy, and both men
shifted into an easy pose, as much as to say, "Well, we've found the
cattle duffer for you." The moments passed heavily, then suddenly Dan
looked up. There was storm in his eyes. He had forgotten the
cow-punchers.

"Well, what are you waitin' for?" he cried. "Get out!"

It was all the thanks the men got for the unctuously given story, and
their hard work.

They vanished rapidly through the door, and hastened to air their
grievance and repeat their story with added "frills" to ready ears at
the bunk house.

Jim gazed through the doorway after them, and Dan furtively watched
him for some silent moments.

"Well?" he said at last.

The tone of his inquiry was peculiar. There was no definite anger in
it, nor was it a simple question. Yet it stung the man to whom it was
addressed in a way that set his teeth gritting, and the blood running
hot to his head.

"Well?" he retorted. And their eyes met with the defiance of men of
big physical courage.

Dan was the first to avert his gaze, but it was only to hide that
which lay behind in his thoughts. And when he spoke there was a harsh
smile in his eyes.

"What ha' ye got to say t "--he jerked a thumb in the direction of the
bunk house--"that feller's yarn?"

Jim's answer was unhesitating. He shrugged as he spoke.

"Guess there's no definite reason to doubt it. There are the cattle.
They're all re-branded with my brand. I've seen 'em. The hand that did
it was a prentice hand, though. That's the only thing. The veriest kid
could detect the alteration."

"It's your brand." Dan's eyes were still averted.

"Sure it's my brand. There's no need for more than two eyes to see
that."

McLagan's quirt again began to beat his boot-leg. Jim understood the
temper lying behind that nervous movement. He felt sick.

"Wher' d'ye keep your brands?"

"There's one here and one up in the hills, in my little implement
shack, where I run my cattle. I keep that there for convenience."

"Just so."

Jim was groping under the bed on which Dan was reclining. He heard the
reply, but chose to ignore it.

But he knew by its tone that suspicion had been driven home in this
cattleman's mind. He drew an iron out from amongst the litter under
the bed, and held it up.

"That's the iron," he said. "It would be well to compare it on the
brands. It is identical with the iron I keep up in