They led it into a gate and removed the rope while the rest of the calves scattered out through the main gate and into the hills.
“That’s where your calves have gone to,” said Hashknife seriously. “It’s a cinch to use a runnin’-iron and make 88 out of 33. Some danged cow-men ain’t got sense enough to make their brand fool-proof. How long has that outfit been knowed as the 88?”
Skelton masticated rapidly for a moment.
“Since Easton’s been in control, I betcha. I’ve hear the place spoke of as the old Cross-L outfit. That was likely Lonesome Lee’s brand. We’ll ask him.”
Lonesome Lee came painfully and cautiously out of his hiding-place and considered Skelton’s question.
“Easton bought that brand from a feller over near Ross Mountains. He drove in a hundred head of feeders which was wearin’ the 88, and he—aw, I’m danged if I know what he wanted to do it for, but he rebranded all of the Cross-L stock, and cancelled my registry.”
“And the 88 brand made it a cinch to steal all of Skelton’s stock,” said Hashknife. “All they had to do was to burn on the other half of the 88.”
He took a pencil and illustrated it to Lonesome.
“I—I didn’t have nothin’ to do with that,” wailed Lonesome. “My ——, I ain’t no thief!”
“No, I don’t reckon you are, Lonesome.”