"Neither would I. But we all know what Captain Grady is—the meanest man that ever drew the breath of life—and if he once learns that we haven't the papers he'll be down on us quicker than a grizzly bear in the spring."
"Well, we won't let him know that the papers have been burned up. We will continue to bluff him off."
"We can't bluff him forever. To my mind——"
The boy broke off short, and coming to a halt, pointed with his disengaged hand toward the barn.
"Did you leave that door unlocked?" he went on.
"Certainly I didn't. Who opened it? Perhaps Allen is back."
"And perhaps there are horse thieves around!" was the quick reply. "Come on."
Without a word more the two boys dropped their burdens and started for the structure in which the horse belonging to each had been stabled.
The boys were Chetwood and Paul Winthrop, two brothers, tall, well-built, and handsome. The face of each was browned by exposure, and showed the perfect health that only a life in the open can give.
Chet and Paul lived with their elder brother Allen at a typical ranch home in Idaho, on one of the numerous branches of the winding Salmon River. The home was a rude but comfortable affair, with several outbuildings close at hand, the whole surrounded by a rude but substantial stockade, a relic of the time when troubles with the Indians were numerous.