“I’m thinking,” Roy mused, “that the molehill we were talking about a while ago has increased in size. Maybe it’ll grow to a fair-sized mountain after all.” “Um! In other words, things are stirring. Let’s take a ride over to the south range. Remember where we found so many breaks in the fence? We can do a little repair work on the side. I don’t think dad wants us for anything special. I’ll ask him before we go, to make sure.” Teddy found his father talking to Nat Raymond, both standing by the side of one of the ranch wagons. Nat waved to Teddy, and called: “Hey, take a look at what we got here. Maybe you’ll recognize some of ’em.” “What? Recognize--” He reached the wagon and peered in. Then he gave a low whistle of amazement. Within were the bodies of some ten of fifteen wolves. “He cleaned that gang up for you, Teddy,” Mr. Manley said. “Remember when I sent the boys out to chase these critters off the range? They didn’t have so much luck then, but Nat, Jules an’--who else was with you, Nat--Joe, wasn’t he?--they went out yisterday an’ did a little fancy shootin’. I feel more easy, now--didn’t like Belle Ada to ride around with these things roamin’ the hills. Some nice pelts there.” Teddy reached out and touched one of the dead wolves. “This big one, Dad, was probably the leader. The rest--those that are left, I mean--will scatter now. Good work, Nat! Wish I could have been there when you brought these down. Where’d you run across them?” “Near Sanborn’s Point. We just stood still an’ picked ’em off. They tried to rush us, but we soon discouraged ’em. I’ll take ’em out back, boss, an’ get someone to help skin ’em. These pelts are worth money.” He clucked to the small roan that was standing quietly between the shafts, and the wagon creaked out of the yard. Teddy turned to his father. “Dad, Roy and I want to do a little fence riding. There were a few places we missed the last time, and we’ll fix ’em now. We may be gone all day. Anything special to do around here?” “Reckon not, Teddy. Say--” Mr. Manley paused for a moment. “Did you speak to Gus after he got in from town?” “Yep! About Peterson, you mean? Said no one seemed to know him. But I can tell you one thing--Peterson knows the Lefton brothers.” “The Lefton brothers!” Mr. Manley started. “I thought they’d left the country. A bunch of four-flushers, that’s what they are! I didn’t take to ’em when I first met ’em. They’re not cattle dealers. So Peterson is acquainted with them, hey?” He took his corncob pipe from his pocket and stuck it, unfilled, between his teeth. His eyes narrowed in thought. “Saw the three of ’em together in Red Rock. They hopped a train just as Roy and I were going to yell at ’em. Still, I suppose there’s no harm in that,” suggested Teddy. “No harm, no.” Mr. Manley tugged at the ends of his mustache. “Well, go along, Teddy. Stay as long as you want to. Nothing important around here. So he knows the Lefton boys, hey?”