t him out of the
tent. Whitey was interested in this trait of Injun's and liked him the
more for it. If Injun was a stick-to-itive fellow, so was Whitey. He
would show Bill Jordan that he couldn't make a fool of him and get away
with it.

And finally, as a reward of perseverance, Injun did get something on
Dorgan, though it didn't amount to much. Injun averred, and it may have
been true, that Monty had a deadly fascination for Dorgan; that when
Monty was around, Dorgan couldn't keep his eyes off him. And Injun said
that he saw Dorgan approach Monty in the corral, probably to admire him
more closely, and that Monty showed great hatred for Dorgan; laid back
his ears and bit and kicked at Dorgan.

"Him no like um. Him must know um," declared Injun, being firmly
convinced that Monty's actions indicated a close acquaintance with
Dorgan.

However, Monty couldn't give any spoken evidence that Dorgan had stolen
him, so there the matter rested. And there was something else to occupy
the boys' minds. There seemed to be a vague feeling of unrest at the
ranch. There always had been bad blood between Gil Steele and the
workers. He not only was a hard taskmaster, getting the last ounce of
work out of the men, but he was close in money matters, and had all
sorts of fines and penalties he imposed when the men were late or
neglected their work. There was continual wrangling and haggling.

With this sort of thing on the surface you will understand that it would
be easy to stir up more serious trouble from underneath, and something
of the sort was going on. It was something Whitey couldn't put his hand
on, but he could read it in signs shown by some of the men. And there
were mysterious meetings and gatherings of the disaffected ones.

Of course, Injun was quick to sense all this, and had no scruples about
butting in and finding out all about the trouble. As bad examples are as
catching as good ones, and more so, Whitey joined Injun in his
investigations. So behold! A dark night on the prairie. A tent showing
only a streak of yellow light where the opening folds did not quite
meet. Two boys lying on their stomachs near the edge of the tent,
industriously listening.

This was not their own tent. There seemed to be few grumblers in that.
It was the tent in which Henry Dorgan was housed. And listen as they
might, and sharp as Injun's ears were, they heard nothing definite. Just
murmurs, an occasional oath or two, and what might have b