"Didn't sound like no birdcall to me, Bud. He was pumpin' the kid about something. I couldn't ketch none of the words, but I could tell by the tonation of his voice that he was askin' one question right on top of another. Do you reckon, Bud, he was snoopin' around tryin' to pump the kid about our pilgress?" "Marge? No reason he should pump the kid about her. That girl's an open book--printed in clear type. She and Butch were having a great old visit down by the corral yesterday when he was showing off his fancy roping. You saw them, Jelly. I bet she was giving him her life history. A girl that's lived the pure, simple life Marge has will tell all about herself without much coaxing. I don't believe Butch would be a darn bit backward about asking her anything he wanted to know. He must have been quizzing the kid about something else." "She's a purty girl and a sweet girl, and no mother to guide her," Gelle eulogized solemnly. "No bonehead rustler like Butch Cassidy can run any rannigans whilst I'm on the job. If I was shore--" "It wasn't that. Anyway, Marge can hold her own without any help. If you'd heard some of the roastings I've got, already--somebody told her I lied about our frogs. I never will be able to square myself, I guess. Say, Jelly, Butch may have been asking Skookum about that boat. He seemed pretty keen about it in the bunk house." "Bud, I wouldn't put that bank job past the Fryin' Pan outfit, do you know it? From the way Butch talked, I'll bet they've been figuring on it, some time or other." Gelle sent another cautious glance over his shoulder. "They didn't do it, Jelly. I left them all at the ranch, and rode straight across the reservation, the shortest way there is. I was expecting to make it home that night, you see. They couldn't have beaten me in. They were sitting around the house, whittling and telling it scarey, when I left, and their horses weren't caught up or anything. Butch may feel sore because some one beat them to it, and if he thought the boodle was cached somewhere within reach-- "Tell you what I'm going to do, Jelly. Soon as we get back with the horses I'm going to do a little scouting around. I've thought of several places I want to take a look at. That yarn about how I was spotting for the gang that killed Charlie Mulholland--well, the quickest way to stop that is to pin it on the guilty parties. If it's a home job, as it looks to be, we can do as much as the sheriff toward getting them with the goods. And, Jelly, I may need you before I'm through." "Well, now, you'd have a heck of a time tryin' to keep me out of the muss!" Gelle laughed to himself. "Here comes Butch, so I'll drop back with the roughnecks. I wouldn't trust Butch if I was you, Bud. He's a nice feller and all that, but he's a horse thief and a killer and I wouldn't trust him fur as I could throw a bull by the tail." Bud was grinning at that when Butch rode up on his high-stepping brown horse, but he did not pass along the joke.