"I hate that woman," said Rick, when informed of her departure. "She's always snoopin' around, an' so is her greaser husband. Down at the bunk-house it's the same way, with Slim, an' Flint Kreeger an' the rest. I tell yuh, I'm dead sick of being spied on, an' plotted against, an' never knowin' when yuh may get a knife in the back, or stop a bullet. I hate to leave Bud, but he's so plumb set on--" "But what's it all about?" put in Buck impatiently. "Can't you tell a fellow, or don't you know?" Bemis flushed slightly at his tone. "I can tell yuh this much," he retorted. "Tex don't want them rustlers caught. He throws a clever bluff, an' he's pulled the wool over Miss Mary's eyes, but for all that, he's workin' on their side. What kind of a foreman is it who'll lose over a thousand head without stoppin' the stealin'? It ain't lack of brains, neither; Tex has got them a-plenty." "But Miss Thorne--" protested Stratton, half-incredulously. "I tell yuh, he's got her buffaloed. She won't believe a word against him. He was here in her dad's time, an' he's played his cards mighty slick since then. She's told yuh he can't get men, mebbe? All rot, of course. He could get plenty of hands, but he don't want 'em. What's more, he's done his best to get rid of me an' Bud, an' would of long ago, only Miss Mary won't let him fire us." "But what in thunder's his object?" "So's to have the place to himself, I reckon. He an' those greasers in the kitchen, and the rest of the bunch, are as thick as thieves." "You mean he'd find it easier to get away with cattle if there wasn't anybody around to keep tabs on him?" Bemis hesitated. "I--I'm not sure," he replied slowly. "Partly that, mebbe, but there's somethin' else. I've overheard things now an' then I couldn't make head or tail of, but they're up to somethin'--Yuh ain't goin', are yuh?" Buck had risen. "Got to," he shrugged. "Miss Thorne's waiting for me to go down to the south pasture." Bemis raised up on his pillows. "Well, listen; keep what I said under yore hat, will yuh?" "Sure," nodded Stratton reassuringly. "You needn't worry about that. Anything else you want before I go?" "Yes. Jest reach me my six-gun outer the holster there in the chair. If I'm goin' to be left alone with that greaser, Pedro, I'd feel more comfortable, someway, with that under my pillow."