"Certainly. Here is the bill of sale, and----" "Take it easy, Bud, take it easy," Billie Dobb cautioned in a low tone of voice. "I don't exactly care for this feller's looks." "Who's 'J. D.'--the one tendin' the ranch now?" asked the Kid. "Yea--only he's not exactly tendin' it. He's here, and something tells me he's goin' to stay here--new owners or not. 'J. D.' don't care much about owners. What he's interested in is keepin' what he's got. And as far as I can see, he's still got the Shootin' Star." "I don't like to dispute your word," Nort said hotly, "but we might have something to say about that ourselves. Come on, boys, let's ride in." "Just a minute--just a minute! Where you-all countin' on headin' for?" sneered the lone horseman. "The ranch house, of course!" "Now just you let me give you-all a little piece of advice. I won't charge nothin' for it, and it _might_ be useful. If I was you boys, I'd turn _right_ around and ride the other way. Tell you what you do, youngster--" this to Bud--"you tell your father you couldn't find the ranch." There was a moment's ominous silence. The Kid was the first to speak. "Well, now, stranger, that's kind of you. Yes, sir, I think that's right kind of you to take an interest in us like that," he drawled. "But you know how it is. We sort of want to find out things for ourselves. So if you don't mind--" his tone changed suddenly. "We'll be gettin' along to the ranch. Out of the way, puncher! Let's go, boys!" The stranger's eyes narrowed. He half raised his rifle, then apparently thinking better of it, let it drop again. As the five moved forward he rode slowly along in the rear. They reached the corral at the side of the house, and Bud and Dick dismounted. Nort, Billee, and the Kid stayed on their ponies. Walking to the door of the house, Bud knocked boldly. There was no answer. He knocked again, this time a little harder. Still no result. "Wonder if there's anyone around?" asked Dick. "Suppose we take a look at the side." "Here's someone," Bud declared as there was a sound of a key grating in a lock. "They certainly keep things tight down here." The door opened slowly. In its frame stood a man of slight build, and, by cowboy standards, dressed effeminately. He wore a "boiled" collar, small black string tie, low cut vest and gray trousers. His long black hair, with a slight shine on it, was brushed straight back. "What'll you have, gents?" he asked. "Lookin' for me?" "We're looking for the man in charge of the ranch," Dick said slowly. "If you can qualify, then I guess it's you we want to see." "Right! And what can I do for you?"