he up-mail," he nodded. "Where's it to?"

He took the letter from Stratton's extended hand and studied it with frank
interest.

"Jim Hardenberg!" he commented. "Wal! Wal! Friend of yores, eh?"

"Oh, I don't know as you'd hardly call him that," evaded Stratton.
"Haven't seen him in over two years, I reckon."

Pop waited expectantly, but no further information was forthcoming. He
eyed the letter curiously, manoeuvering as if by accident to hold it up
against the light. He even tried, by obvious methods, to get rid of the
two punchers, but they persisted in hanging around until at length the
near approach of the train-hour forced the old man to drop the letter into
the mail-bag with the others and snap the lock. On the plea of seeing
whether their package had come, both Stratton and Jessup escorted him over
to the station platform and did not quit his side until the train had
departed, carrying the mail-sack with it.

There were a few odds and ends of mail for the Shoe-Bar, but no parcel.
When this became certain, Bud got his horse and the two mounted in front
of the store.

"By gee!" exclaimed Pop suddenly as they were on the point of riding off.
"I clean forgot to tell yuh. They got blackleg over to the T-T's."

Both men turned abruptly in their saddles and stared at him in dismay. To
the bred-in-the-bone rancher the mention of blackleg, that deadly
contagious and most fatal of cattle diseases, is almost as startling as
bubonic plague would be to the average human.

"Hell!" ejaculated Bud forcefully. "Yuh sure about that, Pop?"

"Sartain sure," nodded the old man. "One of their men, Bronc Tippets, was
over here last night an' told me. Said their yearlings is dyin' off like
flies."

"That sure is mighty hard luck," remarked Jessup as they rode out of town.
"I'm glad this outfit ain't any nearer."

"Somewhere off to the west of the Shoe-Bar, isn't it?" asked Stratton.

"Yeah. 'Way the other side of the mountains. There's a short cut through
the hills that comes out around the north end of middle pasture, but there
ain't one steer in a thousand could find his way through. Well, let's hear
what you're up to, old man. I'm plumb interested."

Buck's serious expression relaxed and he promptly launched into a detailed
explanation of his scheme. When he had made everything clear Bud's face
lit up and he regarded his friend admiringly.

"By cripes, Buck!" he exclaimed delightedly. "That sure oughta work. When
are y