After that he left the dull gnawer of bark strictly alone. The porky fed on the meadow or in the tops of the low bushes where he hung like a spiny ball. His clicking grumble could be heard at any time during the day. And each day Midnight circled his prison seeking a way to get off the mesa. He was uneasy and wanted more room. There was plenty of feed and there was water, but there was no room to gallop. The confinement worried him. He was not like the dull porky or the beavers, he was used to wide spaces and an elevation from which he could look down on the world. From the little mesa he could see nothing but trees, the canyon wall, and the lake. One day late in the spring two men rode down past the cabin at the edge of the mesa. The meadow was green with waving grass, flowers rioted in their hurry to produce seed before the brief high-country summer slipped away. The ridges were blue with lupine or gold with mountain daisies. In the shade clumps of columbine lifted their delicate blue bells, exposing white hearts. Major Howard and his range boss, Tex, were riding together. Tex halted near the upper end of the meadow. He slid to the ground and bent over a scattered mass of bones. Major Howard lighted his pipe and waited. The eyes of the range boss were intent. He remained bent over the bones so long that the major spoke impatiently. “What’s so interesting about a pile of bones?” Tex straightened and his eyes wandered to Sam’s cabin thoughtfully. “Winter kill by a pack of wolves,” he said briefly. “A horse the boys missed in the roundup?” the major asked with a show of interest. Tex nodded. “Some hide and hair left,” he said and his slow smile showed for a moment. “I reckon this hoss was Lady Ebony.” The major did not dismount. But he turned his horse and stared down at the bones. He knew what Tex was thinking and it irritated him. He shook his head grimly. “Couldn’t be,” he said shortly. “I figure it that way,” Tex answered. “It explains a lot of things fer me.” “You never did think old Sam stole that mare,” Major Howard said. “No,” Tex replied quietly. “I did and I still do. You cow-country boys are too soft-livered. The old fellow left his cabin for three weeks or so. He refused to tell where he had been. He had three hundred dollars in cash to pay an attorney. He refused to tell where he got the money.” The major’s lips pulled into a tight line. “You’ll have to dig up more proof than that pile of bones.” He was staring at the desolate cabin, trying hard to urge away the doubt Tex had raised in his mind. Major Howard was at heart fair and honest. He smiled suddenly. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see that mare at one of the races this summer.”