figgered that if he tried to ride away on this ridge whoever'd done the
shootin' would see him. An' so he didn't go. He stayed right here an'
watched me when I rode up." He smiled. "There ain't no use lookin'
for that dogie. The man that stayed here has run him off."

There was nothing left for Ferguson to do. He mounted and rode slowly
along the ridge, examining the tobacco pouch. And then suddenly he
discovered something that brought an interested light to his eyes.
Beneath the greasy dirt on the leather he could make out the faint
outlines of two letters. Time had almost obliterated these, but by
moistening his fingers and rubbing the dirt from the leather he was
able to trace them. They had been burned in, probably branded with a
miniature iron.

"D. L," he spelled.

He rode on again, his lips straightening into serious lines.

He mentally catalogued the names he had heard since coming to the Two
Diamond. None answered for the initials "D. L." It was evident that
the pouch could belong to no one but Dave Leviatt. In that case what
had Leviatt been doing on the ridge? Why, he had been watching the
rustler, of course. In that case the man must be known to him. But
what had become of the dogie? What would have been Leviatt's duty,
after the departure of the rustlers? Obviously to drive the calf to
the herd and report the occurrence to the manager.

Leviatt may have driven the calf to the herd, but assuredly he had not
reported the occurrence to the manager, for he had not been in to the
ranchhouse. Why not?

Ferguson pondered long over this, while his pony traveled the river
trail toward the ranchhouse. Finally he smiled. Of course, if the man
on the ridge had been Leviatt, he must have been there still when
Ferguson came up, or he would not have been there to drive the Two
Diamond calf to the herd after Ferguson had departed. In that case he
must have seen Ferguson, and must be waiting for the latter to make the
report to the manager. But what motive would he have in this?

Here was more mystery. Ferguson might have gone on indefinitely
arranging motives, but none of them would have brought him near the
truth.

He could, however, be sure of three things. Leviatt had seen the
rustler and must know him; he had seen Ferguson, and knew that he knew
that a rustler had been in the gully before him; and for some
mysterious reason he had not reported to the manager. But Ferguson had
one adv