“Of course he was,” Bob replied. “Ben knows Father and us too, for that matter, too well to believe that we’d say that we had the deed when we didn’t have it.”
“I guess you’re right, but do you think he’ll keep on cutting?”
“I doubt it.”
“I thought you would say something about the horses,” Jack said a moment later.
“Well, I did intend to at first, but, after all, what’s the use. He’d have denied knowing anything about it, of course, and we haven’t any proof you know,” Bob said, a note of sadness in his voice.
“You were right, of course,” Jack replied. “But it seems to me that it is about up to us to get the proof.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Bob agreed. “It fairly makes my blood boil to think of those poor horses suffering. The ghost and the whiskey were not so bad, but when they start to torturing poor dumb beasts in order to get the best of us, it’s time something was done and don’t you forget it.”
On reaching the camp they went at once to the big shed about a hundred feet behind the cook house, where the horses were kept. There they found a halfbreed, whose only name so far as anyone knew was Sam, doctoring the sick horses. Sam knew and loved horses and was a very capable and reliable man when it came to tending them.
“Hello, Sam, how are the patients,” Bob called as they entered.
“They ver’ seek, but I tink dey geet well all but the two who dead,” Sam replied.