Much as Roy and Teddy wanted to talk to the visitors, they knew that they must continue preparations for the journey to Whirlpool River. It was nine-thirty now, and Nick had not yet returned. Mr. Manley was pacing about the yard nervously, anxious to get started. Roy was currying Star over by the hitching rail at the side of the cook house. Suddenly he heard a voice that caused him to start. It came from behind the cooking shack, and Roy made as though to go forward, then thought again and remained where he was. It was Gus Tripp talking. At first Roy did not recognize the tones of his companion, but as the other talked louder, he knew it to be The Pup. Gus seemed to be strangely insistent over something. “No, sir,” he was saying. “Not me! Count me out! The boss only gave me what I deserved. I hit the bottle and got fired. All right. I got no kick comin’. I’m sorry I did it, but let that go. It’s all over now, and you can count me out of any scheme like that, Joe. I may be an idiot, but, by golly, I’m no polecat!” CHAPTER VI To Whirlpool River “Gus Tripp!” Roy muttered to himself. “And The Pup! I wonder if I--” Coming to a sudden decision, he threw the currying brush on the ground and stepped forward. It took but a moment to reach the cook house, and without hesitating he walked around to the side. It was in his mind to speak to Gus and tell him Mr. Manley would like to see him. But when he rounded the corner he stopped short. There was no one in sight! Puzzled, Roy glanced within the shack. The only person there was Sing Lung, the cook, who grinned widely as he saw Roy. “Hungly?” he demanded. “You boy betta’ have plenty eat, you lide long, yes?” “Yep, we got a long ride ahead of us,” Roy returned absently. “Say, Sing, did you hear two men talking outside here?” “Who men?” “Well, I think they were Gus Tripp and Joe Marino. I could hear ’em away over by the hitching rail, so you must have heard ’em too.” “Me? Nope, I hear nobody. I lun wata--see?” He turned on the kitchen faucet, and the noise of the stream beating against the tin of the sink made even thinking difficult, let alone talking. “All right, shut it off,” Roy yelled. “I understand. But why you don’t break every dish in the place with that torrent I can’t see. Guess you didn’t hear anything.” He stepped into the yard again. Gazing toward the road as it rose into the mountains past Eagles, the ranch town, Roy discerned two horsemen. The boy nodded.