“’Course. Plain as day. J. C. on right hip, swaller-fork in left ear. One was roan an’ t’other a bay-spot.” Selwood turned without a word, left the store, mounted and rode away. “Jest like him!” said Conlan bitterly, “goes a’ridin’ off all secret-like an’ snappy—’s if he knowed somethin’ or wanted us to think he did.” “Mebby he does,” said Barman. * * * * * Sheriff Selwood rode straight up to Sky Line Ranch. It took him a good three hours, going fast, and it was far after noon when he pulled rein at Kate Cathrew’s corral gate and called for her. She came, frowning and inhospitable. “What do you want of me?” she asked coldly. “Nothing,” said Selwood, “except to tell you I’m going to take a look around your place.” “Look and be damned!” she flared. “What do you think you’ll find?” “Well—” he drawled, smiling, “I might find a couple of steers branded with J. C. on the right hip.” For one fraction of a second the black eyes burning sombrely on his flickered, lost their direct steadiness. Selwood laughed, though he was alert in every nerve and his right hand was on his thigh near to the butt of the gun that hung there. Caldwell and several other riders stood close, their eyes on him. He thought of John Allison, found dead at the foot of Rainbow Cliff, to all intents the victim of accident. “What’s the matter, Kate?” he asked pointedly. “Suffering from nerves? Didn’t think you had any.” And he turned to ride over toward the corral. Kate’s flaming orbs sought the face of her foreman. “Go with him,” they telegraphed, and Caldwell went. Selwood covered every foot of the home place of Sky Line in a grim silence, looking for anything. He looked into corral and stable, brush pasture and branding pen, but found no sign of the stolen steers. When at last he rode away it was straight down along the face of Rainbow Cliff toward the west. He did not know why he skirted the rock-face, since it was hard going. The earth at the foot of the great precipice was slanting and covered with the loose stone that was forever falling from the weathered wall. It was rough on his horse’s feet, but he held him to it—and he was surprised to find that Caldwell was still with him, and riding inside next to the Cliff. “Think I need escort, Caldwell?” he asked sarcastically. “Mebby as much as we need spyin’ on,” returned the other and rode along. Three miles further on the sheriff turned down the mountain and the foreman reined up, sitting in silence to watch him out of sight. “Wings is right,” said Selwood to himself, “those steers must have them—but that woman’s eyes were guilty, or I’m a liar.” At the same moment Caldwell was heaving a long breath of relief as he pulled his horse around and headed home. “This here sheriff is gettin’ a little bit inquisitive,” he thought, then grinned sardonically.