The Box B and Double O riders circled the herd and started it again on the journey back to the home range.
Joe scanned the cattle with practiced eye.
“Holy mackerel,” he exclaimed. “We’ve been gyped right. There should be at least 250 head in this bunch and I can’t count more than 185 or 188.”
Slim and Nels checked the number in the herd. Joe was right. At most there were not more than 190 in the herd.
“Which means the rustlers skimmed the cream of the herd and turned the rest back. It would be too easy to trail a bunch this size. Also, turning them back allays our suspicions,” said Joe.
“Darned if I don’t think it was the Diamond Dot that rustled the stuff last night, took what they wanted, and started back with the rest when they figured we’d be on the trail,” said Al Bass.
“I think you’re right,” agreed Slim. “I want to know what’s happened to Chuck.”
Nels looked at the Cajons with a critical eye. “I expect the answer’s some place in the mountains, but it would take weeks to comb them and we can’t leave our own range unprotected that long. We’ll just have to play along and hope that we can get the rustlers and find your friend at the same time.”
But Slim was sick at heart for he knew what had happened to the other cattle detectives sent into the Creeping Shadows country. They had disappeared, never to be heard from again and he was afraid that a similar fate had befallen Chuck.
They herded the cattle back to the Box B range and then Slim drew Joe to one side.