rise near the ranch-house.

The foreman of the A-Y rode over to Charley: "Charley, in case I don't get
back to-night, you and Lefty keep guard somewhere out here, and shoot
any man who don't halt at your hail. If I return in the dark I'll whistle
Dixie as soon as I see the lights in the bunk house, and I'll keep it
up so you won't mistake me. So long."

Sneed and he cantered away together and soon they parted, the former to
ride toward his ranch, the latter toward the Cottonwoods near the Limping
Water and along the trail left by Bill.

When near the grove The Orphan saw five dead cows and he quickly
dismounted to examine them.

"Not dead for long," he muttered as he examined the blood on them. He
leaped into his saddle and galloped through the grove. "Now, by God,
somebody pays for them!" he muttered.

Here was a sudden change in things, positions had been reversed, and
now he could appreciate the feelings which he had, more than once, aroused
in the hearts of numerous foremen. He emerged from the grove and rode
rapidly along the trail left by the perpetrator, alert, grim and angry.
Soon the trail dipped beneath the waters of the creek and he stopped
and thought for a few seconds. If it was Tex, he would not have ridden
toward the Cross Bar-8 and the town, and neither would he have ridden
south toward the Star C, nor north in the direction of the A-Y. He would
seek cover for the day if he was still determined to carry on his game,
and would not emerge until night covered his movements. That left him
only the west along the creek, and more than that, the creek turned to the
south again about five miles farther on and flowed far too close to the
ranch-houses of the Star C for safety. He must have left the water at the
turn, and toward the turn rode The Orphan, watching intently for the trail
to emerge on either bank. His deductions were sound, for when he had
rounded the bend of the stream he picked up the trail where it left
the water and followed it westward.

The country around the bend was very wild and rough, for ravines between
the hills cut seams and gashes in the plain. The underbrush was shoulder
high, and he did not know how soon he might become a target. The trail
was very fresh in the soft loam of the ravines and the broken branches
and trampled leaves were still wet with sap. Soon he hobbled his horse
and proceeded on foot, but to one side of and parallel with the trail.
He had spent an hour in his ad