Slim thought of his brief visit at Dirty Water and checked over one by one the men he had met there. The storekeeper and his clerk could be eliminated from important roles in the rustling gang, but Hal Titzell was a puzzling figure. It was obvious that he had plenty of nerve and at least an explanation for his presence in the valley, but Slim questioned whether he actually had been buying any cattle. That was something he determined to find out.
It simply wasn’t possible for cattle to disappear without some trace, and Slim wondered why the Box B cowboys had been unable to find the rendezvous of the rustlers. Then there must be a shipping point for the stock. The normal place was Mopstick, outside the valley, but there might be another loading yard nearer along the railroad that was being used.
As Slim mulled over the possibilities, he realized that he and Chuck were going to be in for some busy days before the mystery of the rustling on the Box B could be solved.
Slim rode into the valley which sheltered the headquarters of the Box B and Lightning sloshed toward the corral. Chuck, who had been listening for Slim’s approach, came running with a lantern under his slicker. He opened the gate, and horse and rider passed inside the corral. There was a pole lean-to, with a thatched roof, at one side of the corral and the horses were gathered under this protection.
“What luck?” asked Chuck.
“None,” replied Slim. “I was within half an hour of my man when the storm broke. The trail just melted out in front of my eyes and I turned and headed for home.”
“Had anything to eat?”
“Not a thing since yesterday morning.”
“Gosh, you must be starved. Lee Wu’s kept some food hot for you. Better get over to the cookhouse and fill up. I’ll go up to the house and tell Joe Haines and the boss. They’ve been mighty anxious about you.”
“I’ll eat in a little bit,” said Slim, as he pulled his saddle off Lightning. “What do you think of the outfit here?”