right funny," Bucky
mused aloud.

"We never could understand why he didn't."

"Mebbe if you understood that a heap of things might be clear that are
dark now."

"Mebbe. Knowing Dave Henderson as I did, or, rather, as I thought I
did, such treachery as his was almost unbelievable. He was the sweetest,
sunniest soul I ever knew, and no two brothers could have been as fond
of each other as we seemed to be. But there was no chance of mistake. He
had gone, and taken our child with him, likely in accordance with a plan
of revenge long cherished by him. We never heard of him or the child
again. They disappeared as completely as if the earth had swallowed them
up. Our cook, too, left with him that evil night."

"Your cook?" It was the second comment Bucky had ventured, and it came
incisively. "What manner of man was he?"

"A huge, lumbering braggart. I could never understand why Dave took the
man with him."

"If he did."

"But I tell you he did. They disappeared the same night, and the trail
showed they went the same road. We followed them for about an hour next
day, but a heavy rain came up and blotted out the tracks."

"What was the cook's name?"

"Jeff Anderson."

"Have you a picture of him, or one of your friend?"

"Back at the ranch I had pictures of Dave, but I burned them after he
left. Yes, I reckon we have one of Anderson, standing in front of the
chuck wagon."

"Send it to me, please."

"All right."

The ranger asked a few questions that made clearer the situation on
the day of the kidnapping, and some more concerning Anderson, then fell
again into the role of a listener while Mackenzie concluded his story.

"All these years I have kept my eyes open, confident that at last I
would discover something that would help me to discover the whereabouts
of my child, or, at least, give me a chance to punish the scoundrel who
betrayed my confidence. Yesterday my brother's letter gave the first
clue we have had. I want that lead worked. Ferret this thing out to the
bottom, lieutenant. Get me something definite to go on. That's what I
want you to do. Run the thing to earth, get at the facts, and find
my child for me. I'll give you carte blanche up to a hundred thousand
dollars. All I ask of you is to make good. Find the little girl, or else
bring me face to face with that villain Henderson. Can you do it?"

O'Connor was strangely interested in this story of treachery and
mystery. He rose with shining eyes a