"Why, it's thisaway, Tom. When Blakely an' his gang come in they scampered round a-pokin' into every corral in town. Said one o' their hosses had been stole five days before, an' they was out to find the pony an' the thief. I didn't pay no attention, 'cept to see they didn't take one o' my hosses by mistake. Yuh see, I allowed they was lyin' all along an' just huntin' any old excuse to unhook their artillery. Yore hoss! Well, if that ain't rich!" "It must 'a' been my hoss," averred Loudon, solemnly. "I guess now Rufe might have been anxious to get him back--some." "Yeah," cut in Johnny Ramsay, "but who stole him from the 88? Guess the mystery's thicker'n ever, Tom." "Looks like it," agreed Loudon. "Scotty or any of 'em in town now, Bill?" "Scotty ain't. Him an' the Flyin' M bunch have rode south--Damson, I heard Mike Flynn say. Jack Richie's around some'ers. Here he comes now!" "Which I'd admire to know where you fellers went," exclaimed Jack Richie, his expression radiating relief. "I was bettin' yuh'd been bushwhacked, but Scotty he said no, yuh was more likely bushwhackin' somebody else, an' yuh'd all turn up like plugged dollars bimeby. By the looks of that led horse Scotty had yuh sized up right. Who'd yuh gather in?" "Blakely," Loudon replied, quietly. At this juncture Richie perceived the scalp on the gray's bridle. "I see," said Jack Richie. "Run across any one else?" "Fellah named O'Leary--yuh don't know him. He got away. We was at the 88 at the time. Before--before Blakely went he confessed to a whole raft o' stuff. We followed up part o' what he said, an' over in a blind cañon south o' Smoky Peak in the Three Sisters we found a hundred an' twenty Bar S, Hawg Pen, an' Cross-in-a-box cows. Some o' the brands was almost healed up, but there was enough that wasn't to tell where they come from. There wasn't nobody with 'em." "Smoky Peak, huh? Hoofs shaved down or burnt, I s'pose?" "Shore," replied Loudon. "They won't be able to travel under two weeks." "Did yuh tell Old Salt the joyful news--about the cattle?" "I'll send him word." "He's down at Mike Flynn's now. Go an' make him happy. But first c'mon in an' irrigate. If we don't do it right away, Johnny'll faint. His tongue's hangin' out a foot." "I'll see yuh later. Guess I'd better tell Old Salt first." Loudon did not feel particularly cheerful as he walked down the street. His work was done--and well done. His enemies were either no more or journeying swiftly elsewhere. There was peace for honest men in Fort Creek County at last. But there was no peace in Loudon's soul. He was learning for the second time that forgetfulness comes not easily. In front of the Blue Pigeon Store a buckboard was standing. The rangy vehicle and its team of ponies struck a chord in Loudon's memory. He had seen them recently. Where? Idly speculating he entered the Blue Pigeon. Mr. Saltoun, leaning over the counter, was talking to Mike Flynn.