"Them 88 boys have all the luck," grunted Chuck Morgan. "But their luck will shore break if I see any of 'em a-foolin' with our cows. So long." Chuck Morgan rode off eastward. His business was with the cattle near Cow Creek, which stream was one of the two dividing the Bar S range from that of the Cross-in-a-box. Loudon, his eyes continually sliding from side to side, loped onward. An hour later he forded the Lazy River, and rode along the bank to the mouth of Pack-saddle Creek. The course he was following was not the shortest route to the two mud-holes between Box Hill and Fishtail Coulee. But south of the Lazy the western line of the Bar S was marked by Pack-saddle Creek, and Loudon's intention was to ride along the creek from mouth to source. There had been no rain for a month. If any cows had been driven across the stream he would know it. Twice before he had ridden the line of the creek, but his labours had not been rewarded. Yet Loudon did not despair. His was a hopeful soul. Occasionally, as he rode, he saw cows. Here and there on the bank were cloven hoofprints, showing where cattle had come down to drink. But none of them had crossed since the rain. And there were no marks of ponies' feet. At the mud-hole near Box Hill a lone cow stood belly-deep, stolidly awaiting death. "Yuh poor idjit," commented Loudon, and loosed his rope from the saddle-horn. The loop settled around the cow's horns. The yellow pony, cunningly holding his body sidewise that the saddle might not be pulled over his tail, strained with all four legs. "C'mon, Lemons!" encouraged Loudon. "C'mon, boy! Yuh old yellow lump o' bones! Heave! Head or cow, she's got to come!" Thus adjured the pony strove mightily. The cow also exerted itself. Slowly the tenacious grip of the mud was broken. With a suck and a plop the cow surged free. It stood, shaking its head. Swiftly Loudon disengaged his rope, slapped the cow with the end of it, and urged the brute inland. Having chased the cow a full half-mile he returned to the mud-hole and dismounted. For he had observed that upon a rock ledge above the mud-hole which he wished to inspect more closely. What he had noted was a long scratch across the face of the broad flat ledge of rock. But for his having been drawn in close to the ledge by the presence of the cow in the mud-hole, this single scratch would undoubtedly have escaped his attention. Loudon leaned over and scrutinized the scratch. It was about a foot long, a quarter of an inch broad at one end, tapering roughly to a point. Ordinarily such a mark would have interested Loudon not at all, but under the circumstances it might mean much. The side-slip of a horse's iron-shod hoof had made it. This was plain enough. It was evident, too, that the horse had been ridden. A riderless horse does not slip on gently sloping rocks.