“Might be. And he must have partners.”
“So I’ve said right along,” declared the ranchman, vigorously. “Where did you leave Frances, Sam?”
“After the jack hunt? Right thar with Miz’ Edwards and her crowd.”
“Was young Pratt Sanderson with them?”
“Sure.”
“That’s it!” growled Captain Dan Rugley, smiting one palm with his other fist. “She’d ride off with him. Thinks him all right—”
“Ye don’t mean to say ye think he’s in this mean mess?”
“I don’t know. He’s turned up whenever we’ve had trouble lately. If it wasn’t so far to Bill Edwards’ I’d ride that way and find out if the fellow is there, or what they know about him.”
Silent Sam earned his nickname, if ever, during the next hour. He did not say ten words; but his efficient management got a posse of the most trustworthy men together, and they rode away from the ranch-house.
There was no use advising the Captain not to accompany the party. Nobody dared thwart him after a glance into his grim face.