urned to the home ranch. He trusted his
cowboys--all but Barbee, and in Barbee's case he was not sure what to
think--and it was only too clear to him that there were enough men
there to cope with the situation without his interference. Two days
later Barbee reported to him again.

The boy's face was haggard and drawn, his eyes burned sullenly.

"Six head more gone!" he announced defiantly. His look said plainly:
"What are you going to say about it? They're gone."

"So you've turned cattle-thief, have you, Barbee?" was what Steve said.

A sickly flush stained Barbee's hollow cheeks.

"No!" he snapped hotly. "I ain't. But----"

He swung on his heel and started to the door. Steve called him back.

"What are you going to do, Barbee?"

"I'm goin' an' get Blenham," said Barbee between his teeth. "I been
wantin' him a long time. Now this is his work an' he makes it look
like it's mine. I'm goin' an' get him."

"If it is Blenham," Steve offered coldly, "and if you are playing
square with me, how does it happen that he can get away with a thing
like this? Right under your nose--and you not know? It sounds-- You
know how it sounds, Barbee."

"I don't know how he does it," growled Barbee. "I don't know how a man
could run off a string of cows like that in them mountains an' not
leave no tracks. Why, there ain't half-a-dozen places where they could
be drove out'n the valley an' through the cliffs, an' I been watchin'
every one of them places myself all night an' keepin' the other boys
ridin' until they're saddle-weary. An'--an' six head more gone----"

"You're either a clever little actor, Mr. Barbee," muttered Steve
sharply, "or you are straight, and I'm hanged if I know which. Just
leave Blenham alone for a while; go back to your job."

Barbee, his spurs dragging disconsolately, went out. Steve saw how the
boy's shoulders slumped and again asked himself if Barbee were acting
or if Blenham were simply too sharp for him? In the end he decided
that he had better move his headquarters to Drop Off Valley.

That same day there came a cowboy riding from the Big Bend ranch
bringing a brief note from Steve's grandfather. It ran:

DEAR STEPHEN: Better not go too far, my boy. Eye for an eye is
first-class gospel. And there ain't no game yet I ever been bluffed
out on. Guess you understand.

PACKARD.

Steve didn't altogether understand but the messenger could add nothing
save that the old man was