"He can talk his head off," Harris said. "But he can't overlook any Three Bar calves on his circle while I'm running the layout. Morrow tried that on while he was breaking you in." Carp surveyed the faces of the men and started to speak but changed his mind and headed for the rope corral. "He's a cringing sort of miscreant," Moore said as Carp rode off. "He was even afraid to speak up for himself--thought maybe the boys would pass sentence on him before he could get out of sight. I expect Carp is poor sort of folks." "That's going to leave us short-handed," Harris said to the girl. "Morrow, Carp and Bangs--three short. Horne ought to get back from Brill's to-day. We've only one more week out so I guess we can worry through." "How did you know?" she asked. "About Carp, I mean." "Lanky caught him overlooking a bunch of cows with calves," Harris explained. "Lanky is worth double pay." The Three Bar girl had noted that Carpenter had been much with Bentley, Slade's rep, since Morrow had gone. She had come to be suspicious of all things connected with Slade. "Are you watching Bentley?" she asked. Harris shook his head. "No use," he said. "Slade wouldn't work that way. Bentley is his known representative and anything Bent might do would reflect on Slade. Slade only works through one or two others who arrange for all the rest. Morrow is likely one of his right-hand men. He'd fix it for Carp without Slade's name even coming into it at all. Carp might have a good idea where the money came from but he'd draw it from Morrow and never get to the man behind. We'll never get anything on Bentley for that reason--because he's known to draw Slade's pay." "Then how can we ever prove anything on Slade?" she insisted. "It's ten to one we can't," he said. "Even if one of his chief fixers should turn him up it wouldn't work. It would be the same old story--the word of an owner against that of a self-confessed thief. We may have to handle Slade without proof." Horne came back from Brill's in the early evening and another man rode with him. "Alden," Billie said. "I wonder what the sheriff is doing out in here." The sheriff stripped the saddle from his horse and the wrangler swooped down to haze the animal in with the remuda as Alden joined Harris and the girl. He was a tall, gaunt man with a slight stoop. His keen gray eyes peered forth from a maze of sun-wrinkles surmounted by bushy eyebrows, the drooping gray mustache accentuating rather than detracting from the hawk-like strength of countenance. He dropped a hand on the girl's shoulder and looked down at her. "How are things breaking this season, Billie?" he asked. "Everything running smooth?" "About the same," she said. They were old friends and the girl knew that Alden would help her in any possible way. The sheriff turned to Harris.