“I wasn’t really suspicious of Mark till this winter, not till after he was supposed to have shot himself, an’ you jumped the country. I had nothin’ but a hunch last year that somebody was rustlin’. Tex Matthews was on the lookout with the round-up. Another man worked on the outside. I got a notion Mayne might be draggin’ his rope. That’s why I had Tex edge in there. Tex told me straight he thought Mark was usin’ the T Bar S for a blind. I didn’t believe him. Not till he was dead. I felt kinda bad about that. There’s a big bill for those two to pay, Tyler. But it’s got to be collected legal. I don’t want no strangler work on this range, nor shootin’--unless deputy sheriffs do the shootin’. The gun fighter’s day ought to be over. We got organized law an’ law officers. You keep that in mind when your trigger finger itches for Mark Steele.” “My gun hand don’t ever itch,” Robin answered slowly. “Only if he jumps me, or even acts like he might jump me, I got a lot of things to remember that don’t incline me to be peaceful.” “A man has a right to defend himself,” Sutherland admitted. “But you have too much chalked up against Steele to stop at defendin’ yourself. You burn inside when you face him. I’ve seen it in your eye twice now. An’ I want him alive,” he finished grimly. “I want to make him a shinin’ example to cow thieves an’ murderers.” “Meantime you keep him in charge of your outfit where he’s got all the chance in the world to do most anything he wants to do,” Robin said tartly. “I don’t _sabe_ the play.” Sutherland smiled faintly. “I want him where I can keep cases on him,” he said. “Suppose he does get away with a few calves. What’s a few hundred calves more or less? I’d lose a thousand head of stock cheerful, to catch a cow thief out of my own outfit. I’ll get them cattle all back anyway, sometime. The only question is: How can we nail him an’ Thatcher dead right?” An idea which had lurked nebulously in Robin’s mind for days took definite form in that instant. “Look,” said he, “you spoke rather peevish a while ago about trustin’ men. Do you reckon you can trust me?” Sutherland looked at him thoughtfully. “You _got_ to trust men,” said he. “You wouldn’t be runnin’ the J7 if I didn’t have a certain amount of confidence in you.” “Maybe you got better reasons for trustin’ me than you know,” Robin observed. “Probably I hate a thief and a crook and a cold-blooded killer worse than you do, even if I have no stock to be stolen. Anyway, I have an idea. Will you stake me to about five thousand dollars?” Sutherland stared at him for a minute, reached into a drawer and took out a check-book. “I suppose,” he rumbled as he handed over the green slip, “it ain’t any of my business what you aim to do with my money?” “You’ll get good value for it or you’ll get it back.” Robin grinned. “Now, about this T Bar S stuff? Will you leave me handle ’em my own way for a while?” Sutherland nodded.