Drawing rein, Bob dismounted at the store, went inside and asked where he could find out who owned property in the town fifteen years ago. The interest of the loungers in the boy was no whit lessened by this question and several of them chorused: "The Land Office, right next door." Thanking them collectively, Bob went out, leaving the idlers to speculate over his identity and purpose. But though he found the Land Office without difficulty, he could make neither head nor tail out of the records. Noticing the perplexity on his face, the clerk, a kindly-faced, gray-haired man, asked him for what he was searching. "To see if Horace Chester ever owned any property in Red Top." "I can tell you that without looking," replied the clerk. "He had one of the best ranches in Oklahoma. It was good when he died. But it's worth ten times as much now." This information set Bob's head in a whirl, and for some minutes he could not speak, but when he did, he asked hesitatingly: "Was he--was he crazy?" "Crazy? well, I should say not!" ejaculated the clerk, staring at Bob in wonder. "Who owns the property now?" "A. Leon Dardus." "How'd he get it?" "By will. There was a long legal battle between Sam and John Ford and Dardus. But Dardus finally won." "Where is the ranch?" "Twenty miles south of here. Jim Haskins hires it." At these surprising answers, Bob's heart seemed to come up in his throat, stifling his speech. But noticing that his questions had aroused the clerk's curiosity, he hurriedly left the office. Needing time to think, the boy hastened along till he came to a building which served as a saloon, diningroom and gambling den. Attracted by the food sign, he entered, took a seat near a partition, and ordered some pork and beans. But before it was brought, he had forgotten about eating. From behind the partition, loud voices were audible and he caught the word "Ford." Listening intently, he heard a voice say: "Sure, we can do it! I've got the papers all ready, old Sam Ford's signature and all. Just pass over that two thousand five hundred dollars, and I'll give them to you." "But suppose Ford fights us in court?" exclaimed another voice. "He won't do that!" growled a third. "Leave it to me!" "Now, Bill, there's to be no----" But before Bob could catch the last word, the waiter came in with his pork and beans and, noticing that the boy was listening with head close to the partition, shouted: "What you listenin' to? That don't go in Red Top!" And dropping his dishes, he leaped for Bob, just as the men behind the partition, who had heard the waiter's angry words, struggled to get through the door. Realizing he was no match for so many, Bob took to his heels, the others in pursuit. As he dashed from the restaurant, Chester leaped to his feet and, back bristling, jaws distended, faced the pursuers. "That's Ford's dog!" gasped the waiter. "That fellow must have been one of his men!"