“If you were awake,” Mark retorted, “you might notice that slick-ears is damned scarce in this rough country where there’s generally plenty on account of bunches being missed here and there.” “Maybe so,” Robin answered. “But I haven’t noticed anything that looked like a maverick totin’ a strange brand, either.” “Look here.” Shining Mark lowered his voice. “What I said to you and what I say now is not for publication. I told you because you work for old Mayne and I reckon he can’t afford to have his stock stolen. You can tell old Dan what I said if you like--but you can tell him likewise that if I hear any loose talk about cow thieves there’ll be dust flyin’ around him. I know what’s goin’ on. I don’t want no rustler tipped off that I’m on his trail. You tell old Mayne to either keep his face closed or stop drinkin’ whisky.” “Why don’t you tell him yourself,” Robin suggested mildly. “I’m tellin’ _you_ to tell him,” Steele drawled coolly. “You’ll see him first, I guess. And that goes for anybody. _Sabe?_” He shot the last word at Robin as if it were a challenge. “Don’t know as I do, but I hear what you say,” Robin answered slowly. Steele rode along looking sidewise at him now and then. Robin was sensitive to impressions. He felt that this slender and capable range foreman regarded him with suspicion and annoyance, and a touch of contempt. Whether there was more in the back of Mark Steele’s mind Robin couldn’t say. Mark’s words did sound like a threat. Robin suspected Steele meant his message to Dan Mayne to be taken as a threat. It was as if he said, “You fellows keep off my trail or you’ll get hurt.” It wouldn’t be the first time in the history of the cow business, Robin knew, that a range boss had used his delegated power and freedom of movement to feather his own nest at the expense of other people. Nor would Shining Mark be the first man to grow restive and see red when he found himself in danger. Robin knew he had to be wary--or blind. Steele was obliquely warning him that he and Dan Mayne had better be blind. But he did not let Steele know that he so understood. He simply said: “So long as this sight unseen cow thief don’t show his mark on anything belonging to the man I work for, I leave him--or them--to you. The Block S can take care of its own.” “You’re damned right it can,” Steele said tartly, “long as I run it. I don’t like cow thieves, myself.” Again that curious repetition, emphasised Robin had no acquaintance with classic literature, or he might have retorted: “Methinks thou dost protest too much.” As it was he said nothing. A mile farther Steele pulled up. When the other two came abreast he pointed into a ravine pitching down to a steep-walled canyon. “You and Tex,” he instructed Robin, “drop in here and get across on top of that other bench. Shove everything from there on back to camp. We’ll take in the flat at the river and come up the bottom of the canyon.”