“No.”
“Say! thet hoss—” he exclaimed. His gaze of friendly curiosity had moved from Hare to Silvermane. “You can corral me if it ain't thet Sevier range stallion!”
“Yes,” said Hare.
Snood's whoop brought three riders to the door, and when he pointed to the horse, they stepped out with good-natured grins and admiring eyes.
“I never seen him but onc't,” said one.
“Lordy, what a hoss!” Snood walked round Silvermane. “If I owned this ranch I'd trade it for that stallion. I know Silvermane. He an' I hed some chases over in Nevada. An', stranger, who might you be?”
“I'm one of August Naab's riders.”
“Dene's spy!” Snood looked Hare over carefully, with much interest, and without any show of ill-will. “I've heerd of you. An' what might one of Naab's riders want of Holderness?”
“I rode in to Seeping Springs yesterday,” said Hare, eying the foreman. “There was a new pond, fenced in. Our cattle couldn't drink. There were a lot of trimmed logs. Somebody was going to build a cabin. I burned the corrals and logs—and I trailed fresh tracks from Seeping Springs to this ranch.”
“The h—l you did!” shouted Snood, and his face flamed. “See here, stranger, you're the second man to accuse some of my riders of such dirty tricks. That's enough for me. I was foreman of this ranch till this minute. I was foreman, but there were things gain' on thet I didn't know of. I kicked on thet deal with Martin Cole. I quit. I steal no man's water. Is thet good with you?”