"You're right about the horses, major," said Hay, mopping a moist and troubled face with a big bandana. "My racer and my best single footer, Dan, were out last night. Dan's saddle cloth was wet and so was Harney's. Some one outside has got false keys,--I'll put new padlocks on at once,--but for the life of me I can't think who would play me such a trick. To _steal_ the horses,--run 'em off to Rawlins or up the Sweetwater or off to the Hills--I could understand that! but to borrow them for an hour or two,--why, it beats me hollow!" And Hay in deep perplexity leaned against the low fence and almost imploringly gazed into the major's face. They all leaned on Webb. "Any idea who they were?" asked the commander. "Not the skin of a shadow, 'cept that one man rode shorter stirrups'n I do. They forgot to set 'em back. They had my California saddle on Dan and that light Whitman of mine on Harney." "Sure it was two men?" queried Webb, looking straight into the trader's eyes. "What else could it be?" demanded Hay, in no little excitement. "Well, I thought possibly Miss Flower might have been moved to take a moonlight ride. No reason why she shouldn't, you know, and not wishing to disturb you----" "Then she would have used her own side-saddle. What's she doing with a man's? Besides, she'd have told me!" "Oh! You've seen her then this morning? I thought perhaps she wasn't up," hazarded Webb. "Up? Why, hang it, she was up at daybreak--up hours ago, my wife says. Haven't you seen her? She's over here somewhere?" No, Webb had not seen her, and together the two started in search, first to the flagstaff, and there at the point of bluff beyond the Rays',--there she stood, gazing up the Platte toward the Indian village through a pair of signal glasses that weighed heavily in her daintily gloved hands. Captain Tracy, a bachelor assistant surgeon, stood faithfully by her side, listening to her lively chatter, with ears that absorbed and eyes that worshipped. "Come away," said Webb. "I have an order on you for Field's currency in your safe. When are you going to try to get your cash to bank?" And Webb keenly eyed his man as he asked the question. "To-morrow or next day sure,--even if I have to go part way with the stage myself. When do you want this money?" said Hay, tapping the envelope Webb had given him.