the devil he could be up to, so far from home?"

"Might have been along by the lake a bit seeing some of that bunch at
Larry Woodcock's place. Larry's gang and the Redmans lot are pretty
much of the same kidney."

"Well," said Phil, dismissing the subject, "I guess it is up to us to
keep our eyes peeled, anyway."

It was two weeks after this, following a run to town, that Jim came in
with an angry look in his eyes.

"Say, Phil!--there's some darned monkey-doodle business afoot. I wish
I could get to the bottom of it."

"What is it now?"

"I saw Red McGregor on the main road yesterday, and to-night I met
him, Stitchy Summers and Skookum full in the teeth, jogging into town.
Darned funny thing,--I never saw them on this road before."

"Well,--it is a good job we haven't started in with any stock yet.
Like enough somebody will be hollering again about being shy a few fat
steers or calves. There were three hundred head of cattle reported
missing off the ranges last year and about that much or more every
year for a dog's age--if all reports be true. Funny thing they can't
lay the rustlers by the heels and hang them by the necks in the good
old-fashioned way."

"Yes!" commented Jim, "if that crowd are mean enough to thieve feed
and grain, I wouldn't care to turn them loose among anybody's cattle,
especially now the feed and grain stealing business is unhealthy."

"But how can they get away with it, Jim? The cattle are branded."

"Sure thing, Simple Simon! But they are not branded under their
hides."

"How do you mean?"

"Only one thing I can think of:--the thieves must be driving off the
cattle, two or three at a time, and killing them in some lonely spot
out over the ranges; skinning them and burying or burning the hides.
They could then sell the fresh meat to butchers in some of the border
towns who might buy it from them innocently enough through the breeds,
or who might be in the ring and getting their meat dirt cheap.

"However,--let's forget it. It is none of our funeral. And I promised
Mrs. Clunie for both of us that we'd take a run back to her place at
nine o'clock. She is having a birthday party for all her old friends,
and wants us help her celebrate."

"I guess we had better go then, Jim, or we'll never hear the end of
it."

Half an hour later, they set out. Five hours later still, after a
merry time--as merry times went at Mrs. Clunie's--they returned, and
it was a much speedier return than th