"Why, partly intuition and partly something tangible," replied the ranch manager, seriously and with seeming frankness. "Did you observe the silver stallion he rode, Major?"
"An exceedingly fine animal, my boy; one I would like to own. What of that?"
The foreman permitted a dramatic pause.
"You are interested in stopping the rustling of Ethel's horses?" came sudden inquiry.
"You know how interested I am. The rustling must be stopped! But what is the connection between rustling from the Rafter A and following a hard-riding gent around Strathconna as though he were a criminal?"
"I realize I'm going to make myself unpopular, as you and Ethel both seem fascinated with the chap; but criminal is exactly what I expect this Childress will prove to be. Every time we've had a glimpse of the raiders the leader rode a silver stallion. The creamy beast was just such a splendid specimen as this Montana man rides. I mean to learn all I can about him."
"Rubbish!" cried MacDonald warmly. "If he was——"
"That's what I say," interrupted Ethel with considerable scorn, in the use of which she was an expert when the occasion seemed to demand.
"You're forgetting the flame, Bernice," suggested Fitzrapp.
"And I fear you're letting your jealousy of anyone who looks at Ethel run away with you, my dear fellow," chided the pioneer. "You forget that the Gallegher outfit has lost stock as well as the Rafter A."