do a trick like that. My grandfather wouldn't. That
is, I don't think he would."

"Better hedge! Wouldn't he, though! He's always been as mean as
gar-broth; the older he gets the meaner and nastier he is. He'd do
anything to double-cross a Temple and you know it. It's one crooked
play; there'll be more like it. Just you see, Steve Packard. And the
next one--at least if it concerns me--you see that you let me know
about it instead of going around like a dumb man."

Then he blurted out word of the recent losses from Drop Off Valley.
For her herds mingled there with his and a part of the losses were to
be borne by her.

"I'm on my way there now," he concluded. "I've an idea----"

"You haven't!" she interrupted. "Steve Packard, I don't believe you
ever had an idea in your life. Don't you know--don't you know what's
going with those steers up there?"

"Do you?"

"You just bet your life I do! It's that crook of a Yellow Barbee, in
cahoots with that crook of a Blenham who's taking orders from that
crook of an old Hell-Fire Packard! Can't you see their play?"

"I rather think I can. But I don't happen to be as positive about the
unknown as you do."

"You're just a man," said Terry. "That's why. And now you are on your
way to the feeding-grounds up there, to come in and say, 'Here I am,
Barbee, come to watch you and see that you don't steal any more stock
for me to-night.' That the idea?"

Steve laughed.

"Not exactly. I had intended leaving my horse before I got to the rim
of the valley and going on on foot, not telling everybody what I was
about."

"And you'd come to the rim of the valley either by Hell Gate pass or
through the old Indian Trail, wouldn't you? And Barbee or Blenham
would see that both ways were watched."

"You seem to know the trails rather well," he began, but she merely
broke in:

"That's not all I know about this neck of the woods, either, Steve
Packard. Maybe it's lucky for you and for me too that you told me all
this. I'll take you into Drop Off Valley to-night, and Blenham and
Yellow Barbee can watch all they please and never guess we're there.
For there's a way up that not even Blenham knows and where they will
never look for us. Come on, Steve Packard; use a spur."

She shot by him, leading the way.

So Steve and Terry rode through the forests, passing from the dull
fringe of the day into the calm glory of the night, feeling the air
grow cooler and sweeter agai