Here was more mystery. Ferguson might have gone on indefinitely arranging motives, but none of them would have brought him near the truth.
He could, however, be sure of three things. Leviatt had seen the rustler and must know him; he had seen Ferguson, and knew that he knew that a rustler had been in the gully before him; and for some mysterious reason he had not reported to the manager. But Ferguson had one advantage that pleased him, even drew a grim smile to his lips as he rode on his way. Leviatt may have seen him near the dead Two Diamond cow, but he certainly was not aware that Ferguson knew he himself had been there during the time that the rustler had been at work.
Practically, of course, this knowledge would avail Ferguson little. Yet it was a good thing to know, for Leviatt must have some reason for secrecy, and if anything developed later Ferguson would know exactly where the range boss stood in the matter.
Determined to investigate as far as possible, he rode down the river for a few miles, finally reaching a broad plain where the cattle were feeding. Some cowboys were scattered over this plain, and before riding very far Ferguson came upon Rope. The latter spurred close to him, grinning.
"I'm right glad to see you," said the puncher. "You've been keepin' yourself pretty scarce. Scared of another run-in with Leviatt?"
"Plum scared," returned Ferguson. "I reckon that man'll make me nervous—give him time."
"Yu' don't say?" grinned Rope. "I wasn't noticin' that you was worryin' about him."
"I'm right flustered," returned Ferguson. "Where's he now?"
"Gone down the crick—with Tucson."
Ferguson smoothed Mustard's mane. "Leviatt been with you right along?"