t
the papers he'll be down on us quicker than a grizzly bear in the
spring."

"Well, we won't let him know that the papers have been burned up. We
will continue to bluff him off."

"We can't bluff him forever. To my mind----"

The boy broke off short, and coming to a halt, pointed with his
disengaged hand toward the barn.

"Did you leave that door unlocked?" he went on.

"Certainly I didn't. Who opened it? Perhaps Allen is back."

"And perhaps there are horse thieves around!" was the quick reply. "Come
on."

Without a word more the two boys dropped their burdens and started for
the structure in which the horse belonging to each had been stabled.

The boys were Chetwood and Paul Winthrop, two brothers, tall,
well-built, and handsome. The face of each was browned by exposure, and
showed the perfect health that only a life in the open can give.

Chet and Paul lived with their elder brother Allen at a typical ranch
home in Idaho, on one of the numerous branches of the winding Salmon
River. The home was a rude but comfortable affair, with several
outbuildings close at hand, the whole surrounded by a rude but
substantial stockade, a relic of the time when troubles with the Indians
were numerous.

It was a warm, sunshiny day in August, and the two boys had been down to
the river fishing at a favorite deep hole near the roots of a clump of
cottonwood trees. Each had a nice mess of fish strung on a brush branch,
showing that their quest of game had not been a vain one.

For three years the three Winthrop boys had lived alone at the ranch
home. Their former history was a peculiar one, the particulars of which
will be given later. Just now we will follow Chet and Paul to the barn,
the door to which stood half open.

"Gone!"

The single word burst from the lips of both simultaneously. It was
enough, for it told the whole story. Their two animals, Jasper and Rush,
had vanished.

"Thieves, as sure as fate!" ejaculated Paul, gazing rapidly on all
sides. "See how the lock has been broken open."

"And they have taken all the extra harness as well," added Chet, his
black eyes snapping angrily. "I wonder how long ago this happened."

"There's no telling, Chet. Let's see--we went off about eight o'clock,
didn't we?"

"Yes."

"Then the rascals have had nearly four hours in which to do their dirty
work. By this time they are probably miles away. This is the worst luck
of all."

"You are not going to sit down and su