Why had they asked all those questions of the X Bar X hands when they did not intend to buy cattle? And surely it was plain now that all thought of purchasing cows had departed from their minds, if, indeed, they had ever held such thoughts. When they had first come to the X Bar X, they purposely gave the impression that they were cattle buyers. Why? It seemed now to Roy that they had never had any real intention of entering into negotiations. If they had meant actually to buy cattle, why had they dropped the project, even before terms were mentioned? Thus it seemed to Roy that his conduct now was perfectly logical. He knew that Teddy would scoff at the idea of spying on the Leftons and attempt to dissuade him from his purpose. But Roy, romantically inclined, saw things in a different light. He determined to play the part of investigator. The low tones of the three men reached him as he drew nearer the camp. As yet he could not distinguish words, but placing his hand over Star’s nose to avoid any possibility of discovery he walked quietly closer. He saw that Mob Jamisson sat with his back toward him and that the other two faced Mob. Jerry was talking in excited tones. “--easily six hundred head,” he was saying. “Fine, splendid cattle! Healthy! I tell you that you people out here don’t realize what it means to have cattle like that.” “But how?” Bill questioned. “The cars--” “Getting cars would be a cinch! Nothing to it! Why, it’s only an eight mile run, you know.” “That’s a fact!” Mob broke in. “Eight miles isn’t far. The old Jarmey place--” “Wait!” Bill raised his hand. “I heard something. If it’s--You! What the mischief--” “I dropped my knife,” Roy answered steadily, moving closer to the fire. His hands hung at his sides, limp, innocent of weapon. “Just rode up this second. See it around here, any of you? Silver, with my initials on it.” “You just rode up, you said?” Mob demanded springing up and striding forward. “How comes we didn’t hear you, hey? First thing we know you’re on top of us. You’ve been listening--” “What difference does it make?” Roy asked calmly. “What? Say, you--” “I said, what difference does it make how I came up? I tell you I lost my knife and came back for it. Why all the argument? What’s wrong about losing a knife? The way you talk you’d think I’d overheard something I should not have. What do you think I am, anyhow?” “He’s right, Mob,” Jerry said quickly. “You must be pretty nervous to-night. I can’t figure out why you’re making such a fuss myself. Go ahead, look for the knife, Manley. We’ll help.” Mob Jamisson, realizing that he was beaten, subsided. He looked at Roy intently. Just how much of their conversation had the boy heard? He could not ask without indicating that there was something he wished to keep secret.