"I happened to have this end
an' they passed right close to me. They clean forgot to speak."

"Well, now," said Ferguson. "That was sure careless of them. But I
reckon they was busy at somethin' when they passed. In that case they
wouldn't have time to speak. I've heard tell that some folks can't do
more'n one thing at a time."

Rope laughed. "They was puttin' in a heap of their time tryin' to make
me believe they didn't see me," he returned. "Otherwise they wasn't
doin' anything."

"Shucks!" declared Ferguson heavily. "I reckon them men wouldn't go
out of their way to drive a poor little dogie in off the range.
They're that hard hearted."

"Correct," agreed Rope. "You ain't missin' them none there."

Ferguson smiled, urging his pony about. "I'm figgerin' on gettin' back
to the Two Diamond," he said. He rode a few feet and then halted,
looking back over his shoulder. "You ain't givin' Tucson no chancst to
say you drawed first?" he warned.

Rope laughed grimly. "If there's any shootin' goin' on," he replied,
"Tucson ain't goin' to say nothin' after it's over."

"Well, so-long," said Ferguson, urging his pony forward. He heard
Rope's answer, and then rode on, deeply concerned over his discovery.

Leviatt and Tucson had ridden up the river the day before. They had
returned empty handed. And so another link had been added to the chain
of mystery. Where was the dogie?

CHAPTER XI

A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR

A few months before her first meeting with Ferguson, Mary Radford had
come West with the avowed purpose of "absorbing enough local color for
a Western novel." Friends in the East had encouraged her; an uncle
(her only remaining relative, beside her brother) had assisted her. So
she had come.

The uncle (under whose care she had been since the death of her mother,
ten years before) had sent her to a medical college, determined to make
her a finished physician. But Destiny had stepped in. Quite by
accident Miss Radford had discovered that she could write, and the
uncle's hope that she might one day grace the medical profession had
gone glimmering--completely buried under a mass of experimental
manuscript.

He professed to have still a ray of hope until after several of the
magazines had accepted Mary's work. Then hope died and was succeeded
by silent acquiescence and patient resignation. Having a knowledge of
human nature far beyond that possessed by the average person, the uncle