men and the loose horses over beyond the
red hill nagged him with a warning that all was not well on the Rolling R
range. He had headed straight for the red hill, and he had noticed many
little, betraying signs that had long escaped him in his preoccupation
with his own dreams and ambitions.

The horses were wild, and ducked into whatever cover was nearest when he
approached. Johnny knew that they had lately been chased and frightened,
and that there was only one logical reason for that, because none of the
Rolling R boys had been down on the Sinkhole range since the colts were
branded and these horses driven down for the summer grazing.

Johnny rode to where he had seen the horseman, picked up the tracks of
shod hoofs and followed them to the fence. Saw where two panels of wire
had been loosened and afterwards refastened. Some one had dropped a
couple of new staples beside one post, and there were fresh hammer dents
in the wood. Johnny had not done it; there was only one other answer to
the question of the fence-mender's reason. There was no mystery whatever.
Johnny looked, and he knew.

He looked out across the fence and knew, too, how helpless he was. He had
not even brought his rifle, as Sudden had told him to do. The rifle had
been a nuisance, and Johnny conveniently forgot it once or twice, and
then had told himself that it was just a notion of old Sudden's--and what
was the use of packing something you never would need? He had not carried
it with him for more than three weeks. But if he had it now, he knew that
it would not help him any. The thieves had hours the start of him. It had
been just after sunrise that he had seen them--he, a Rolling R man,
sailing foolishly around in an airplane and actually _seeing_ a bunch of
Rolling R horses being stolen, without caring enough to think what the
fellows were up to! Self-disgust seized him nauseatingly. It was there at
the fence he first wished he had fallen and broken his neck.

He turned back, rode until he had located a bunch of horses, made a rough
count, and went on, heavy-hearted, steeped in self-condemnation. He
located other horses, scattered here and there in little groups, and kept
a mental tally of their numbers. Now, while the sun dipped low toward the
western hills, he watched this last herd dismally, knowing how completely
he had failed in his trust.

Square with his boss! He, Johnny Jewel, had presumed to prate of it that
day, with half the horses s