ater-holes an'----"

"Damn him!" cried Steve, a sudden fury seeming to leap out upon him and
take him by the throat. "Am I to stand everything from that man and
from my old fiend of a grandfather? It's this and that and any other
thing they want to turn loose and here I stick like a cursed
toad-stool, doing nothing for want of proof! Proof," he snorted
disgustedly. "Bill Royce, let's quit waiting for anything but just go
get the trouble-seeking outfit!"

"Which sounds good to me," retorted Royce eagerly.

And yet when his rage cooled a bit Steve ground his teeth in his
impotence. He must wait until Barbee came with what God chose to leave
him of his steers, he must hear the foreman's account and decide
whether Blenham were really at the bottom of this or if it were just
his way and his men's to blame all things upon Blenham.

"The first thing, Bill," he said when he had turned his tired horse
loose in the pasture, "is to decide what we are going to do with what
cattle Blenham hasn't poisoned for us. We are fed off pretty short
down at this end. I'll ride over to the Temple place and see if we
can't arrange with Miss Terry to run a few head there."

"Yes," said Royce dryly. "I'd hurry if I was you, Steve. But, say!"
He slapped his leg and jerked up his head. "How about the old Indian
Valley, Drop Off Valley, as they call it now?"

"Gone crazy, Bill? When did my grandfather ever show any inclination
to help out?"

Then Royce, thoroughly excited, explained. Andy Sprague from beyond
the ridge had ridden by only yesterday afternoon. If Royce had only
known at that time that Steve was bringing back the cattle from San
Juan he would have arranged with Andy. For the man had said that he
had just bought Drop Off Valley from old Packard; that he wouldn't want
the range this year as he had only recently sold close. He would rent
and reasonably.

"There's close on a couple of thousan' acres in there; there's plenty
water an' enough good grass to run two or three hundred head easy until
your feed comes in again down this way. Nail him, Steve; for the love
of Mike, nail Andy Sprague quick before the crooked little cuss finds
out jus' how bad you need the pasture an' sticks you accordin'. Go
nail him, Steve."

And Steve, seeing hope like a brightening flush of a new day, hurried
to the corrals and a fresh horse. He was going straight after Andy
Sprague. But----

"Guess I'll ride by the Temple place," he