“That’s good,” Mr. Manley sighed. “I didn’t think Gus was that kind. Pshaw, I knew he wasn’t! Wonder if we’ll see him again? Well--” and he shrugged his shoulders. “But this is no time for wonderin’. We got to be on our way. So The Pup stole--right from the house! Stole my payroll!” He shook his head again, slowly, and walked off muttering. “Dad would rather have that money taken twice than to think Gus was mixed up in it,” Teddy said to Roy in a low voice. “He’s sorry The Pup did it, too. He may have disliked Marino, as I guess we all did, but dad hates to think any one is a thief.” The horses, saddled and ready, were waiting for them. Those who had come with Mr. Manley had, of course, their own broncos, and Jake Trummer supplied Teddy, Roy, Pop Burns and Bug Eye with other mounts. They took with them food, and each saddle packed a rifle and a blanket. The chase, even if it was successful, might take several days to conclude. They had one big advantage--the rustlers did not know they were being trailed. Thus they would take their time, and Mr. Manley counted largely on this. “Guess we’re all set,” the boss of the X Bar X stated, as he looked about him. The men were mounted, waiting for the word to start. “Whenever you say, Bardwell,” Jake Trummer suggested. “Then let’s go!” The riders filed out of the yard and headed once more for the river. Mr. Trummer had left word with one of his men on the ranch that the canoe and its contents were to be taken care of, so there was no need to return to the place where they had left it. Instead, the riders cut diagonally across the range and headed away from the direction the boys had come. “Dad, what about that landslide?” Roy remarked, spurring his mount up closer to his father. “Nick arrived all fagged out and told us a stranger gave you a wild tale about an avalanche.” “It _was_ a wild tale,” Mr. Manley declared. “Jake said no such thing occurred. Didn’t you, Jake? But it had me worried, all the same. By golly, if it’s not one thing it’s another!” “I’ll tell a maverick,” Roy muttered, and then rode forward silently. He was thinking of The Pup and Gus. Where had The Pup fled to? They had seen him at the edge of the stream on the horse he had stolen. Did he follow the river? Or did he branch out? Was there a chance of catching him, as well as the cattle rustlers? “Pipe dreams,” the boy muttered. “We’ve seen all we ever shall of Joe Marino.” “Roy, quit that mumbling and speak up!” Teddy exclaimed. “What’s on your mind?” “The Pup, for one thing,” Roy answered grimly. “He’s got a horse of ours, and four hundred dollars. I hate to let him get away with a raw thing like that without an effort to catch him.” “We’ll make more than an effort, Roy, when we get this cattle business finished,” Mr. Manley called back. “We’ll have every sheriff in the state on his trail, and maybe we’ll take a hand in it ourselves. He was the man who put Gus on the bum. I can’t forget that.”