“Oh, well, it might be worse. It’s going to interfere with my plans, though, for no doubt I’ll be laid up here a few days. I’m getting stiff now, and I know I can’t travel to-morrow.”
“Did you count on going on out to your ranch, Dad, and trying to catch those cattle rustlers yourself?” asked Ned, eagerly.
“Well, I don’t know that I was exactly planning to go myself,” answered Mr. Slade, slowly. “But something has to be done, and soon, too. I didn’t tell you,” he went on, “but I happened to miss this letter when I looked for it after I received a telegram from Watson on my arrival in Leighton.”
“You mean he telegraphed you after he wrote this letter?” Ned asked.
“Yes, a little while ago. His wire was filed this morning, and was to the effect that another choice bunch of my steers was run off last night.”
“Whew!” whistled Ned. “That’s surely bad.”
“It certainly is, Son! And it’s got to stop!”
“How did Watson know where to find you?” asked Ned of his father.
“He didn’t. He telegraphed me at my office, and as they knew my route they sent on the message.”