“That was Denver Smith,” Mr. Trummer declared. “They’re the last of the old gangs, an’ the sooner they go the better. They make their headquarters on the banks of Whirlpool River an’ try to pick up tips they can use in their business, which is everything from high-jackin’ to rustlin’. I pity the man that rides that river road alone an’ with money in his pocket. They’d get him sure. Yep, boys, it was Denver Smith an’ his bunch fer a sure bet. What did they say, again?”
“They were planning to steal our cattle and let you take the blame,” Roy replied. “They knew you’d had an argument with dad up on our ranch, though I don’t know how.”
“It’ll be the last one we’ll have, eh, Bardwell?” Mr. Trummer said, and grinned. “As fer them findin’ out, they have ways an’ means. But that’s not the point. Yore cattle’s gone, Bardwell. What you aimin’ to do?”
“Get ’em back!” Mr. Manley said grimly. “I hate to ask it, Jake; but if you can spare a few horses for the boys, here—”
“Spare a few horses?” Mr. Trummer ejaculated. “What kind of a game is this, Bardwell?”
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Manley muttered, and turned away. “I kind of thought—”
“Spare a few horses! By cripes, you got nerve! An’ what about me? Think I’ll stay here? We’ll ride together, like we done before, Bardwell! You can have all the horses yuh want; but yuh got to take me with ’em! We’ll get them rustlers, an’ every one of yore cows! Spare a few horses! Huh! I’ll spare more than that! You hear me?”
Mr. Manley grinned. He clapped his friend on the back, and then laughed.
“For a minute yuh had me scared, Jake. But I might o’ known—I might o’ known. We ride together, then. Tell yore cook to throw some victuals together. Boys, I’m sure glad you showed up! We’ll clean up Denver Smith an’ his gang—an’ dry-clean ’em at that! Saddle what broncs Jake wants to give you, an’ we’ll eat an’ get!”