ter is closed, thanks to your kindness," he declared,
again seating himself.

He was right, in so far as they were concerned. Yet the matter was
not closed. That evening, when Knowles and Gowan returned from their
day of range riding, the younger man noticed a crumpled slip of paper
lying against the foot of the corral post below the place where he
tossed up his saddle. He picked it up and looked to see if it was of
any value. An oath burst from his thin-drawn lips.

"Shut up, Kid!" remonstrated Knowles. "I'm no more squeamish than
most, but you know I don't like any cussing so near Chuckie."

"Look at this!" cried Gowan--"Enough to make anybody cuss!"

He thrust out the slip of paper close before his employer's eyes.
Knowles took it and read it through with deliberate care.

"Well?" he said. "It's a receipt from the postmaster to Ashton for
those letters I sent over by him. What of it?"

"_Your_ letters?" asked Gowan, taken aback. "Did you write that one
what is most particularly mentioned, the one to that big engineer
Blake?"

"No. What would I be doing, writing to him or any engineer? They're
just the people I don't want to have any doings with."

"Then if you didn't write him, who did?" questioned Gowan, his mouth
again tightening.

"Why, I reckon you'll have to do your own guessing, Kid--unless it
might be Ashton did it."

"That's one leg roped," said Gowan. "Can you guess why he'd be writing
to that engineer?"

"Lord, no. He may have the luck to know him. Mr. Blake is a mighty big
man, judging from all accounts; but money stands for a lot in the
cities and back East, and Ashton's father is one of the richest men in
Chicago. I looked it up in the magazine that told about his helping to
back the Zariba Dam project."

"That's another leg noosed--on the second throw," said Gowan. "Another
try or two, and we'll have the skunk ready for hog-tying."

"How's that?" exclaimed the cowman. "You've got something up your
sleeve."

"No, it's that striped skunk that's doing the crooked playing,"
snapped Gowan. "Can't you savvy his game? It's all a frame-up--his
sending off his guide and outfit, so's to let on to you he'd been
busted up and kicked out by his dad. You take him in to keep his
pretty carcass from the coyotes--which has saved them from being
poisoned."

"Now, look here, Kid, only trouble about you you're too apt to go off
at half-cock. This young fellow may not be--"

"He shore is a snake, Mr. K