Stafford filled and lighted his pipe. "I'm takin' Dave Leviatt's word for it," he said. "Who's Leviatt?" queried Ferguson. "My range boss," returned Stafford. "He's been ridin' sign on Radford an' says he's responsible for all the stock that we've been missin' in the last six months." Ferguson rolled a cigarette. He lighted it and puffed for a moment in silence, the manager watching him. "Back at Dry Bottom," said Ferguson presently, "there was a man shootin' at a can when I struck town. He put five bullets through the can. Was that your range boss?" Stafford smiled. "That was Leviatt--my range boss," he returned. "We went over to Dry Bottom to get a gunfighter. We wanted a man who could shoot plum quick. He'd have to be quick, for Radford's lightnin' with a six. Leviatt said shootin' at a can would be a good way to find a man who could take Radford's measure--in case it was necessary," he added quickly. Ferguson's face was a mask of immobility. "Where's Leviatt now?" he questioned. "Up the Ute with the outfit." "How far up?" "Thirty miles." Ferguson's eyelashes flickered. "Has Leviatt been here lately?" he questioned. "Not since the day before yesterday." "When you expectin' him back?" "The boys'll be comin' back in a week. He'll likely come along with them." "U--um. You're giving me a free hand?" "Of course." Ferguson lounged to the door. "I'm lookin' around a little," he said, "to kind of size up things. I don't want you to put me with the outfit. That strike you right?" "I'm hirin' you to do a certain thing," returned Stafford. "I ain't tellin' you how it ought to be done. You've got till the fall roundup to do it." Ferguson nodded. He went to the corral fence, unhitched his pony, and rode out on the plains toward the river. Stafford watched him until he was a mere dot on the horizon. Then he smiled with satisfaction. "I kind of like that guy," he said, commenting mentally. "There ain't no show work to him, but he's business." CHAPTER VII THE MEASURE OF A MAN During the week following Ferguson's arrival at the Two Diamond ranch Stafford saw very little of him. Mornings saw him proceed to the corral, catch up his pony, mount, and depart. He returned with the dusk. Several times, from his office window, Stafford had seen him ride away in the moonlight. Ferguson did his own cooking, for the cook had accompanied the wagon outfit down the river. Stafford did not seek out the new man with instructions or advice; the work Ferguson was engaged in he must do alone, for if complications should happen to arise it was the manager's business to know nothing.