“What don't you owe to that whirlwind of a horse!” exclaimed Dave Naab. No other comment on Hare or Silvermane was offered by the Naabs. “You knew Holderness had taken in Silver Cup?” inquired Hare. August Naab nodded gloomily. “I guess we knew it,” replied Dave for him. “While I was in White Sage and the boys were here at home, Holderness rode to the spring and took possession. I called to see him on my way back, but he wasn't around. Snap was there, the boss of a bunch of riders. Dene, too, was there.” “Did you go right into camp?” asked Hare. “Sure. I was looking for Holderness. There were eighteen or twenty riders in the bunch. I talked to several of them, Mormons, good fellows, they used to be. Also I had some words with Dene. He said: 'I shore was sorry Snap got to my spy first. I wanted him bad, an' I'm shore goin' to have his white horse.' Snap and Dene, all of them, thought you were number thirty-one in dad's cemetery.” “Not yet,” said Hare. “Dene certainly looked as if he saw a ghost when Silvermane jumped for him. Well, he's at Silver Cup now. They're all there. What's to be done about it? They're openly thieves. The new brand on all your stock proves that.” “Such a trick we never heard of,” replied August Naab. “If we had we might have spared ourselves the labor of branding the stock.” “But that new brand of Holderness's upon yours proves his guilt.” “It's not now a question of proof. It's one of possession. Holderness has stolen my water and my stock.” “They are worse than rustlers; firing on Mescal and me proves that.” “Why didn't you unlimber the long rifle?” interposed Dave, curiously. “I got it full of water and sand. That reminds me I must see about cleaning it. I never thought of shooting back. Silvermane was running too fast.” “Jack, you can see I am in the worst fix of my life,” said August Naab. “My sons have persuaded me that I was pushed off my ranges too easily. I've come to believe Martin Cole; certainly his prophecy has come true. Dave brought news from White Sage, and it's almost unbelievable. Holderness has proclaimed himself or has actually got himself elected sheriff. He holds office over the Mormons from whom he steals. Scarcely a day goes by in the village without a killing. The Mormons north of Lund finally banded together, hanged some rustlers, and drove the others out. Many of them have come down into our country, and Holderness now has a strong force. But the Mormons will rise against him. I know it; I see it. I am waiting for it. We are God-fearing, life-loving men, slow to wrath. But--” The deep rolling burr in his voice showed emotion too deep for words. “They need a leader,” replied Hare, sharply. August Naab rose with haggard face and his eyes had the look of a man accused.