But it was plain that Quiller’s mind was running on Nate Dunbar. Circumstances seemed to point more decisively in the direction of the Star-A rancher than toward Red Steve.
“The man who took the money,” pursued the scout, noting the trend of the cowboy’s thoughts, “was the man who look the saddle. Nate Dunbar’s not a thief.”
“It’s hard ter tell what a man is when he makes a play o’ this kind.”
“And certainly Nate wouldn’t take the saddle. Why should he? He had a good saddle of his own.”
This fact seemed to make some impression on Quiller. Before he could express himself, however, the doctor came riding up in front. With the doctor was Bloom and Sim Pierce, both ready for the trail.
“Come on, you there!” roared Bloom.
Quiller ran out, tightened his cinches, swung into the saddle, and the four riders fared out of town at a gallop.
“See how it is, Nick?” queried the scout. “Already suspicion is leveled at Nate Dunbar. You can gamble that Bloom will do everything possible to make it bad for the boy. I reckon we had also better be getting saddle leather between our knees.”
“Ter go whar, Buffler?”
“Why, to the H-P ranch. I want to watch this thing and find out just what develops. We must keep in touch with every detail. It’s liable to mean a whole lot for Nate.”