"It ain't the boy we're chasin' up, Jeff," he said, with a deep assurance.
"How d'you know that?"
The demand was incisive, almost rough.
"These folks weren't pelt hunters. Not by a sight. I bin around."
Jeff had turned to the speaker, and a great relief shone in his eyes.
"What—who were they—then?" he asked sharply.
"Maybe it was a ranch—of sorts."
"Of sorts? You mean——?"
"Rustlers. Come right on out of here, an' I'll show you."
With gentle insistence he drew his friend away from the painfully fascinating spectacle which held so difficult a riddle. And presently they were again with their horses, which were grazing unconcernedly upon the sweet blue grass which the valley yielded so generously.