“The white wolf!” gasped Dick.
“Is it real, or is it a spectre?” whispered Munson.
Just then a scudding cloud momentarily obscured the moon, and when the full light again shone forth, both woman and wolf had vanished.
The young men looked into each other’s eyes in awe and wonderment.
CHAPTER VI—The Quarrel
THE following days were busy ones on San Antonio Rancho. Dick Willoughby was constantly in the saddle, looking after his subordinates, watching the line fences, and generally keeping track of the vast herds. Lieutenant Munson was becoming acclimated. He not only accompanied Willoughby on many of his rides, but had also paid several visits to La Siesta, and one afternoon in particular had enjoyed immensely a successful trout fishing expedition with the young ladies along the mountain stream that flowed through the property.
One morning there was great excitement at San Antonio headquarters. Ben Thurston returned from a visit he had been paying to Los Angeles, and with him floated in a circumstantial story that the rancho had been really sold. As usual, he was attended by the plain-clothes detective whom he retained as bodyguard. Leach Sharkey was a big, hulking fellow, more than six feet in height, with a tousled shock of reddish hair, a stubby red mustache, and teeth that showed even when his face was in repose. Bulging hip pockets indicated the brace of heavy revolvers which he invariably carried.
Within an hour of Mr. Thurston’s coming, Dick Willoughby, as foreman, was summoned to an interview at the ranch house. The owner received him alone in his office.