"And then?" urged Fitzrapp, glancing nervously toward the house, where no one seemed to have noticed their return.
"Oh, then she slides the cayuse into the basin and enjoys a nice friendly visit with his nibs. When she starts home, he goes to playin' with a hound-dog as though he was tickled pink."
The ranch manager was frowning now, but not at Duncan O'Hara. "How do you know he's the man I told you of? Are you absolutely sure?"
"He wore all the marks that you'd calculate on seein' from my distance, but I'm countin' more, on the stallion what was staked out near the cabin he's buildin'. Never seen a finer chunk of horse-flesh. He's him, all right, unless you shuffled in the discard when picturin' of him to me."
"Say nothing of this to any one, O'Hara. I'll see you after supper." Fitzrapp strode off toward the house muttering to himself. "So Ethel rode over to see this railroad nester, did she? And she just didn't think to mention it after we saw him yesterday at Gallegher's. Now, Childress, you upstart, I'll have to get the goods on you!"
When he entered the living room the place seemed deserted. "Oh, I say, Ethel!" he called out cheerily. "Where are you?"
The girl started up from a reclining chair behind the curtains of a deep bay window, where she had been sitting in the warmth of the afternoon sun, now dipped behind the Rockies.
"Hello, Tom," she greeted him. "I didn't hear any one ride in. Must have been nodding over this impossible book."
"What have you been doing with your precious self?"
"Except for our interesting ride to Gallegher's, mighty little, I must admit. The ranch is about as exciting as an irrigation project with you all away. I slept—you caught me at that; I read, and I rode a little. If this rustler scare is going to depopulate the home ranch, one of two things is going to happen to Ethel. Either I get in on the fighting or I'll go up to Strathconna and visit somebody."