“Well—” Mr. Manley shook his head, and at that moment Roy bounded up the steps.
“Dad! We’re here at last. Had a tough time of it.”
“Roy! Teddy! Glad to see you, boys. I was beginnin’ to worry, but I figured you might have been delayed on account of the storm. And now you’re here—” he spread his hands expressively—“we might as well turn around an’ go home. The cows are gone. Trummer—”
“Wait, Dad,” Teddy said quickly. “You’re wrong. Mr. Trummer had nothing to do with the cattle being stolen.”
“Stolen! How do you know that? Who stole ’em? Jake Trummer—”
“Give the boy a chance, Bardwell!” Mr. Trummer interrupted testily. “He knows more about it than you do. Let him speak.”
“It’s just this,” Teddy went on, with a look at the others. “Two nights ago we camped by the stream, because the storm came up, and we couldn’t see our way clear to taking a chance on keeping afloat. Late at night—at least it seemed late—Roy and I walked down to the river, leavin’ Pop an’ Bug Eye by the fire. That right, Pop?”
The veteran nodded.
“Yuh tell it, Teddy. Yuh know more about it than what I do.”
“We headed for the river,” the boy went on, “and when we got there we heard some men talking. They were in a boat on the stream. Some one they called Denver—”