Steve, raw-nerved through these long hours of inaction and uncertainty, pushed straightway to Doan bent upon demanding an explanation. He got an inkling of one from an unexpected quarter, Blenham's lips.
"We sure appreciate this, Mr. Doan," Blenham said, getting down and offering his hand to the cattle-buyer. "Count on me an' ol' man Packard doin' you a favor any time. So long."
And casting to Steve a look of blended triumph and venom he hurried down to the stable and his horse.
"Mr. Doan," said Steve bluntly, "what in hell's name do you mean by treating me this way?"
Doan turned his thin impassive face with the hawk-eyes toward young Packard.
"Who do you happen to be?" he asked coolly.
"I'm Steve Packard from Ranch Number Ten. And I've got a herd of steers out here that's been waiting for you some time now."
"Oh, yes," said Doan, still very cool. "Got my wire, didn't you, saying that I was unavoidably detained?"
"I did not!" snapped Steve. "Detained by what? Blenham?"
"Strange," murmured Doan.