“I certainly do not,” returned Garry vehemently. “And if you had seen the poor lad when he stumbled on to my preserves, you wouldn’t even have to ask that question. Why, he was almost tearful in his gratitude at being safe again, and I am quite sure nothing could have made him leave the place of his own accord. He had no reason to fear me.”
“Then you think he was taken—kidnapped?” asked Dorothy slowly.
Garry nodded, his pitying eyes on her face.
“I wish I could have spared you all this, my dear,” he said. “My men and I have been out scouring the hills ever since we discovered the lad’s disappearance. I had just come back to the ranch to see if there had been any developments there when Lance Petterby came along and told me you girls were here on the ranch. Of course I then spurred right on here.”
“But who would do such a thing?” cried Dorothy pitifully. “What motive could any one possibly have in tormenting my poor Joe?”
“I don’t know,” replied the young Westerner grimly, “unless it was some of Larrimer’s crowd hoping through him to get at me. If that’s their scheme I will pretty quickly show them where they get off! Caught Philo Marsh hanging around the place, and I pretty near kicked him over the fence.”
“Philo Marsh!” cried Tavia, who had listened in silent sympathy to Garry’s revelations concerning Joe. “Is he still around here?”
“He is!” said Garry shortly. “Wherever the smoke is thickest and the trouble hottest, there you may expect to find Mr. Philo Marsh.”
“Same evil, old bird of prey, too, no doubt!” exclaimed Tavia.
“Do you think he was the one who kidnapped Joe?” asked Dorothy. She was strangely quiet now. But in her burned a determination that grew stronger with each moment. “Have you any reason to suspect him more than the others?”