Certainly the manner in which the horse-stealing had been carried out bore the ear-marks of 88 methods.
"They had two days' start," observed Swing Tunstall. "Time to ride to Old Mexico almost."
"Telescope's a good tracker," said Loudon, and began to eat his dinner.
"None better. But even Telescope can't do wonders. By the trail the hoss-band headed east. Them hosses was over a hundred, maybe a hundred an' fifty, miles away by the time our outfit got started. In a hundred an' fifty miles o' country yuh'll find lots o' hard ground an' maybe a rainstorm."
"Rain ain't none likely at this time o' year."
"It ain't likely, but hoss thieves with a two-day start are in luck at the go-off. An' luck comes in bunches. If they's any rain wanderin' 'round foot-free an' fancy-loose these gents will get it. An' then where's Telescope an' his trackin'?"
When Tunstall had departed in search of diversion and to buy cartridges, Loudon locked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. In his mind he turned over the events of the past few days. He was sure that Sam Blakely and the 88 outfit were the prime movers in the shooting of Scotty and the stealing of Scotty's horses.
Yet, save that the exceeding cleverness of procedure smacked of Blakely, there were no grounds for suspecting the 88 men. Blakely and his gang were not the only cunning horse thieves in the territory. There were dozens of others free and unhung. Nevertheless, Loudon's instinct fastened the guilt on the 88.
"I'm shore," he muttered, "certain shore. But there ain't nothin' to go by. Not a thing. An' yuh can't prove nothin' lyin' on yore back with a bumped ankle."
Half an hour later the entrance of Kate Saltoun interrupted his gloomy reflections.