He telegraphed again Wednesday night, a third time Thursday morning. No answers came. But a little before noon, Thursday, Doan came. Came by automobile from the railroad, a man with him. Steve saw them as they drove into town; he noted Doan's thin face and his tall form in the gray linen duster; then he marked the man with him. The man was Blenham. Steve, raw-nerved through these long hours of inaction and uncertainty, pushed straightway to Doan bent upon demanding an explanation. He got an inkling of one from an unexpected quarter, Blenham's lips. "We sure appreciate this, Mr. Doan," Blenham said, getting down and offering his hand to the cattle-buyer. "Count on me an' ol' man Packard doin' you a favor any time. So long." And casting to Steve a look of blended triumph and venom he hurried down to the stable and his horse. "Mr. Doan," said Steve bluntly, "what in hell's name do you mean by treating me this way?" Doan turned his thin impassive face with the hawk-eyes toward young Packard. "Who do you happen to be?" he asked coolly. "I'm Steve Packard from Ranch Number Ten. And I've got a herd of steers out here that's been waiting for you some time now." "Oh, yes," said Doan, still very cool. "Got my wire, didn't you, saying that I was unavoidably detained?" "I did not!" snapped Steve. "Detained by what? Blenham?" "Strange," murmured Doan. He got down from his car and stretched his long legs. "I've had a new secretary, Mr. Packard. I found out that he drank. He has been discharged. Hem. Let me see: you've got about fifty steers, haven't you?" "I've got a hundred and eighty-six," Steve said sharply, staring at Doan's inscrutable face and wondering just what was up. "A hundred and eighty-six!" Doan shook his head. "I couldn't take that many on just now; I've made other plans. Unless, of course, you are in a position to tempt me to buy by making me a very attractive figure!" Steve came a sudden step nearer, his eyes blazing, his two fists clenched. "What's this game of yours?" he demanded. "Out with it. What are you up to? You wired me an offer of ten to twelve cents, twelve and a half for the fancy." "What!" cried Doan. "Why, my dear fellow, you must have lost your senses! With the market the way it is now I don't have to pay more than seven and eight cents." Steve waited for no more. His days of waiting were past. He drew back, swung from the shoulder and struck with all of his might. His fist against Doan's chin hurled the lean body of the cattle-buyer half across the street. "Barbee," said Steve quietly, "round up the boys. We start our herd back in ten minutes." And Barbee, taking stock of Steve's white face, went hastily on his errand. CHAPTER XXIII STEVE RIDES BY THE TEMPLE PLACE "Dear me, Mr. Man! How savage you do look!" Steve started and whirled. No; this time he was not dreaming. It was Terry.