hurry by
folks who hate work o' that sort anyway. An' I'd say, Jeff,
cattlemen--real cattlemen--don't dump a range down in the heart of the
Cathills, not even fer this sweet-grass you can see around, when ther's
the prairie jest outside. That is cattlemen who got no sort o' reason
fer keepin' quit of the--open plains. Then ther's bin a big drive away
north from here. Mebbe they wer' gettin' clear of this fire."

Under the influence of Bud's clear convictions all Jeff's fears
vanished. He accepted the other's admittedly better understanding of
these things all the more readily that he desired earnestly to dispel
the last shadows of his momentary doubt.

"That's so," he agreed. Then he added: "But anyway, our camp's gone."

"Yes. We'll make camp some'ere else. Meanwhiles----"

"Yes?"

"We must follow up the trail."

There was irrevocable decision in the older cattleman's tone. And his
words had the effect of startling the other.

"But--I don't see----"

"They're rustlers. Ther's their tracks clear as day. This is their
hiding. Wal, I guess there's jest one thing to be done. It's our duty
to track 'em down. Our duty to the cattle world, Jeff, boy."

"But what about--Ronald?"

Bud looked him squarely in the eyes.

"We're cattlemen first, Jeff. The other'll come later."

Jeff nodded, but there was a certain reluctance in his manner. His
whole heart was set upon the search for his twin brother. He felt that
his duty as a cattleman scarcely had the right to claim him at such a
time. But the older man's manner made it difficult to protest, and, in
deference to him, he felt it would be ungenerous to refuse. After all
it only meant perhaps the delay of a day for his own projects.

"Then we'll feed and water right here, Bud," he said resignedly. "We
can leave our pack ponies, and ride light. There's five hours of
daylight yet."

"Yes, five hours good. Thanks, boy. Don't you worry a thing. We'll
make this time good. We're goin' to find your Ronald--if he's
anywheres around these Cathills."

* * * * * *

The more concentrated the character, the more sure its power of moral
endurance, so the more acute its suffering under adversity. Such
penalties lie ambushed for the strong, as though in delight at the
immensity of the suffering which can thereby be inflicted.

Such an ambush was awaiting Jeffrey Masters. It came with terrifying
suddenness. Bud was on