“Not much satisfaction in questioning those railroad fellows,” answered Mr. Manley in discouraged tones. “They couldn’t follow an elephant’s trail, much less notice which way hoss-thieves took. Some say the scoundrels went one way and some say another. All they appeared to notice was three shady-looking chaps leadin’ three horses.” “Then there isn’t much chance of heading them off, is there?” asked one of the girls. “I wouldn’t say that,” was Mr. Manley’s answer. “If they took the back trail over the mountain there’s a chance that we can nab ’em before they get into the rough going, if we make it quick. Once there, though, it’s a toss-up if we ever see our ponies again, boys!” His sons knew just how Mr. Manley felt over this loss. “The back trail!” mused Bug Eye. “Yes, if they went that way yo’-all have a chance of headin’ ’em off. Ain’t this a fine town, though, where a man can’t leave a hoss hitched for a few minutes without some doggoned rustler steps up an’ rides it off? But better pile in my flivver, Mr. Manley, an’ I’ll git ye back to yo’ ranch quicker’n ef yo’ walked. You’ll want to saddle up an’ chase after them thieves, I reckon!” “That’s right!” agreed the ranch-owner. “We’ll be glad of a lift.” “How long did you leave the horses here?” asked Nell. “Just while we were waiting for the train, which was late,” answered Roy, while Bug Eye got out to crank the flivver, the self-starter of which, he announced apologetically, “was on the cheese.” “And some one took them away from the rail to which they were tied?” the girl went on. “Stepped right up to the rail and helped themselves,” said Teddy. “It’s a wonder some one didn’t see them.” “Well,” admitted Roy, “the rail isn’t in plain sight except from certain places. And, I suppose, even if some one had seen the actual theft taking place, they would think that it was the real owners of the horses who were unhitching them.” “Maybe,” agreed his father doubtfully. “Anyway, no one seems to have done anything toward stopping them.” “But there are some here who know more about it than they are letting on,” murmured Teddy and he looked significantly across the street toward Duck Rimor’s place. “It shore is too bad,” affirmed Bug Eye. “But pile in, everybody! It’s going to be a tight squeeze, but these flivvers are made of rubber, I guess. Got bags, ladies? All right, Teddy! Chuck ’em in the back. Shore, put yo’ dad’s in there, too! All ready? Here we go! Hang on!” The car started with a jerk, the transmission bands being worn thin. Roy looked around from the front seat to see that they cleared the edge of the station, which they did by the fraction of an inch. Bug Eye was eccentric in his driving at times. As Roy gazed, he noticed a figure coming out of Duck Rimor’s. It was the cowboy in the checkered shirt. Catching the ranch boy’s eyes, the puncher grinned derisively and waved mockingly at the departing auto. CHAPTER IV A CLUE