The stars told him it was past midnight when he started to climb the knoll on which Slivers had his camp. He dismounted and cautiously made his way upward on foot. Once, twice, three times he gave the wolf call. This was the agreed signal. A few seconds later, he heard Slivers answer.
“’Lo, kid,” Allen said, when he at last stood beside his friend. “How about some java?”
“How are things? What did yuh find out? Did yuh see her?” Slivers eagerly fired out his questions as he made a small fire and put the coffeepot on to boil.
“I’ll give yuh the best first. The girl is fine an’ still thinkin’ of yuh plenty. But the rest is plumb rotten bad. John Reed is dead an——”
“John Reed dead?” Slivers cried in dismay.
“Yeh. Now, yuh hold tight while I tell yuh about it. He was downed by a couple rustlers that he caught blottin’ brands. Spur Treadwell an’ the McGill twins downed the rustlers. Afore ol’ man Reed cashed, he made Spur Dot’s guardian——”
“I don’t believe it,” Slivers interrupted positively.
“Me, neither—but just the same Spur’s got a paper, an’ folks figger said paper is genuine.” Allen grinned sardonically.
Slivers considered this news. Then an idea flashed into his head.
“Them rustlers—they was blottin’ the Double R brand to the Double B?” he demanded.