For a moment their eyes, Steve's as hard as Barbee's, held steady and unwinking in a deeply probing gaze. "Barbee," said Steve after a little, "remember the night Blenham tried to bribe you with a thousand-dollar bill?" Barbee flushed and nodded. "I get you," he said quietly. "Think he's bought me up, maybe?" "I don't know what to think. But this much is clear; If you are on the level it's up to you to see that I don't lose any more stock. And it's also up to you to find where those five steers went. And get them back. Every single hoof of them." That night Steve himself spent in Drop Off Valley, a rifle over his arm. He had ordered his men to carry guns, and if Blenham or another man were detected driving off his cattle, to shoot and to shoot to kill. But the next day he returned to the home ranch. He trusted his cowboys--all but Barbee, and in Barbee's case he was not sure what to think--and it was only too clear to him that there were enough men there to cope with the situation without his interference. Two days later Barbee reported to him again. The boy's face was haggard and drawn, his eyes burned sullenly. "Six head more gone!" he announced defiantly. His look said plainly: "What are you going to say about it? They're gone." "So you've turned cattle-thief, have you, Barbee?" was what Steve said. A sickly flush stained Barbee's hollow cheeks. "No!" he snapped hotly. "I ain't. But----" He swung on his heel and started to the door. Steve called him back. "What are you going to do, Barbee?" "I'm goin' an' get Blenham," said Barbee between his teeth. "I been wantin' him a long time. Now this is his work an' he makes it look like it's mine. I'm goin' an' get him." "If it is Blenham," Steve offered coldly, "and if you are playing square with me, how does it happen that he can get away with a thing like this? Right under your nose--and you not know? It sounds-- You know how it sounds, Barbee." "I don't know how he does it," growled Barbee. "I don't know how a man could run off a string of cows like that in them mountains an' not leave no tracks. Why, there ain't half-a-dozen places where they could be drove out'n the valley an' through the cliffs, an' I been watchin' every one of them places myself all night an' keepin' the other boys ridin' until they're saddle-weary. An'--an' six head more gone----" "You're either a clever little actor, Mr. Barbee," muttered Steve sharply, "or you are straight, and I'm hanged if I know which. Just leave Blenham alone for a while; go back to your job." Barbee, his spurs dragging disconsolately, went out. Steve saw how the boy's shoulders slumped and again asked himself if Barbee were acting or if Blenham were simply too sharp for him? In the end he decided that he had better move his headquarters to Drop Off Valley. That same day there came a cowboy riding from the Big Bend ranch bringing a brief note from Steve's grandfather. It ran: