f on having such safe and
secluded headquarters from which to carry on his investigations.

These first took him southward, and for five days he rode through the
hills, traversing gullies and canyons, and spying out the whole country
generally, in a systematic effort to find the route taken by the rustlers
in driving off their booty.

Once he found the spot where they had taken to the hills, the rest was
comparatively simple. There were a number of signs to guide him, including
the bodies of two animals bearing the familiar brand, and he succeeded in
tracing the thieves to a point on the edge of a stretch of desert twenty
miles or more below the Shoe-Bar land. About twelve miles beyond lay
another range of hills, which would give them cover until they were within
a short distance of the border.

"A dozen good fellows stationed here," thought Stratton, critically
surveying the gully behind him, "would catch them without any trouble.
There's no other way I've seen of getting out with a bunch of cattle."

Having settled this point to his satisfaction, Buck's mind veered
swiftly--with an odd sense of relief that now at last he could investigate
the matter seriously--to the other problem which had stirred his
curiosity so long.

When his attention was first attracted to the north pasture by Bud's
account of Andrew Thorne's tragic death, its connection with the mystery
of the ranch seemed trivial. But for some reason the thing stuck in his
mind, returning again and again with a teasing persistence and gaining
each time in significance. From much thinking about it, Buck could almost
reconstruct the scene, with its familiar, humdrum background of bawling
calves, lowing mothers, dust, hot irons, swearing, sweating men, and all
the other accompaniments of the spring branding. That was the picture into
which Thorne had suddenly ridden, his face stamped with an excitement in
marked contrast to his usual phlegmatic calm. In his mind's eye Stratton
could see him clutch Tex Lynch and draw him hastily to one side, could
imagine vividly the low-voiced conversation that followed, the hurried
saddling of a fresh horse, and the swift departure of the two
northward--to what?

Buck had asked himself that question a hundred times. Three hours had
passed before the return of Lynch alone, with the shocking news--time
enough to ride twice the distance to north pasture and back again. Where
had the interval been passed, and how?

Stratton