Gus was soon resting quietly in a bed upstairs. Teddy telephoned for the doctor, but Mrs. Manley took no chances of blood poisoning setting in while waiting for the physician. She dressed the arm herself, with swift, sure fingers. Later, when the medical man arrived, he declared that no professional nurse could have done a better job. Leaving the cowboy resting quietly, Mr. Manley and his two sons walked toward the corral. “There’s one thing sure,” the rancher declared, “and this is that Froud is the one who stole our broncs! And another thing--I have an idea that he’s one of the gang of rustlers that have been operatin’ hereabouts. Bug Eye said he saw a scar-faced man ridin’ away from the 8 X 8 the very day their cattle was stolen. And I’ll lay money it was Froud!” “Didn’t I tell you?” cried Teddy excitedly, turning to Roy. “Froud! He’s in that gang sure as fate! And so is Checkered Shirt! I can’t give you a reason for saying that, but I’ll bet it’s so, just the same.” Mr. Manley looked over at his son. “You mean that bad egg who was standin’ outside Rimor’s the day General an’ Flash an’ Star were rustled? The one I wanted to talk to later? The chap who vamoosed?” “That’s the one, Dad! Yes sir, he and Froud are together on these shady deals, I’ll bet a gold mine!” “Mebby,” Mr. Manley said slowly, “mebby.” He rested his foot against the lower rail of the corral fence. “But we can’t do anything just yet. Froud ain’t in town now, that’s sure. Wouldn’t do any good to ride after him. What we’ve got to do, is to get him when he doesn’t know we’re comin’. I don’t mind sayin’ I’ll have him for shootin’ Gus.” Slow in speech, slow to declare what he intended to do, both Teddy and Roy recognized fixed determination in their father’s tone. Froud’s days of freedom were numbered. It might take time, but the boys knew that Mr. Manley would never rest until he had placed Froud behind bars--or put him permanently out of commission. When the other punchers heard that Gus had been shot, they were loud in their declarations of vengeance upon Froud. Gus was well liked by all the boys on the X Bar X, and each puncher vowed: “I’ll square it up for you, Gus!” Pop, especially, was wild with anger at the rustler. He asserted that: “Shootin’ a man is worse than stealin’ the X Bar X brand,” which, for Pop, was the criterion of mean and despicable actions. Nell and Ethel had been persuaded to stay several days longer than they had intended, Belle meeting the objection that they “had no clothes,” by the statement that on a ranch they needed none, and as Norine offered to wash any needed linen over night, the excuse of “no clothes” was taken from them.