playin' a lone hand. But he claims to have been
doin' somethin'. He ain't been in the habit of blowin' his own horn,
an' I reckon we can rely on what he says. I'm wantin' you to keep the
boys together this afternoon, for we might need them to help Ferguson
out. He's promised to ride in to-day an' show me the man who's been
rustlin' my cattle."

Leviatt's lips slowly straightened. He sat more erect, and when he
spoke the mockery had entirely gone from his voice and from his manner.

"He's goin' to do what?" he questioned coldly.

"Show me the man who's been rustlin' my cattle," repeated Stafford.

For a brief space neither man spoke--nor moved. Stafford's face wore
the smile of a man who has just communicated some unexpected and
astonishing news and was watching its effect with suppressed enjoyment.
He knew that Leviatt felt bitter toward the stray-man and that the news
that the latter might succeed in doing the thing that he had set out to
do would not be received with any degree of pleasure by the range boss.

But watching closely, Stafford was forced to admit that Leviatt did not
feel so strongly, or was cleverly repressing his emotions. There was
no sign on the range boss's face that he had been hurt by the news.
His face had grown slightly paler and there was a hard glitter in his
narrowed eyes. But his voice was steady.

"Well, now," he said, "that ought to tickle you a heap."

"I won't be none disappointed," returned Stafford.

Leviatt looked sharply at him and crossed his arms over his chest.

"When was you talkin' to him?" he questioned.

"Yesterday."

Leviatt's lips moved slightly. "An' when did you say them cattle was
rustled?" he asked.

"Night before last," returned Stafford.

Leviatt was silent for a brief time. Then he unfolded his arms and
stood erect, his eyes boring into Stafford's.

"When you expectin' Ferguson?" he questioned.

"He didn't say just when he was comin' in," returned Stafford. "But I
reckon we might expect him any time."

Leviatt strode to the door. Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled
evilly. "I'm much obliged to you for tellin' me," he said. "We'll be
ready for him."

A little over an hour after his departure from the hill, Ferguson rode
up to the Two Diamond corral gate and dismounted.

Grouped around the door of the bunkhouse were several of the Two
Diamond men; in a strip of shade from the blacksmith shop were others.
Jocular words were hur