"Just come in?" he questioned.
"Just come in," repeated Leviatt drawling. "Plum starved. Had to eat before I came down here."
He entered and dropped lazily into a chair near the desk, stretching his legs comfortably. He had observed in Stafford's manner certain signs of a subdued excitement, and while he affected not to notice this, there was a glint of feline humor in his eyes.
"Somebody said you wanted me," he said. "Anything doin'?"
Stafford had held in as long as he could. Now he exploded.
"What in hell do you suppose I sent for you for?" he demanded, as, walking to and fro in the room, he paused and glared down at the range boss. "Where you been? We're twenty calves an' a dozen cows short on the tally!"
Leviatt looked up, his eyes suddenly flashing. "Whew!" he exclaimed.
"They're hittin' them pretty heavy lately. When was they missed?"
Stafford spluttered impotently. "Night before last," he flared. "An' not a damned sign of where they went!"
Leviatt grinned coldly. "Them rustlers is gettin' to be pretty slick, ain't they?" he drawled.
Stafford's face swelled with a rage that threatened to bring on apoplexy. He brought a tense fist heavily down upon his desk top.