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Half an hour after leaving the Two Diamond they rode along the crest of a ridge of hills above Bear Flat. They had been riding here only a few minutes when Stafford, who had been watching the stray-man, saw him start suddenly. The manager turned and followed the stray-man's gaze. Standing on a porch in front of a cabin on the other side of the flat was a woman.
Only," he continued with twitching lips, "Dave was takin' the stray-man's measure." Stafford smiled grimly. "How did the stray-man measure up?" he inquired, a smile working at the corners of his mouth. "I reckon he wasn't none shy?" Rope grinned, admiration glinting his eyes. "He's sure man's size," he returned, giving his attention to the saddle cinch.
There was a hint of mockery in his eyes a chilling mockery, much like that which the manager had seen in them months before when in Dry Bottom the stray-man had told Leviatt that he thought he was a "plum man." But now Stafford stood breathless as he heard the stray-man's voice, directed at Leviatt. "I reckon you think you've been some busy lately," he drawled.
Tucson's hand was also wrapped around the butt of his pistol. But before the muzzle of either man's gun had cleared its holster, there was a slight movement at the stray-man's sides and his two guns glinted in the white sunlight. There followed two reports, so rapidly that they blended. Smoke curled from the muzzles of the stray-man's pistols.
He nodded shortly to them, but did not answer. And instead of lugging his saddle to its accustomed peg in the lean-to, he threw it over the corral fence and left it. Then, without another look toward the men, he turned and strode toward the manager's office. The latter was seated at his desk and looked up at the stray-man's entrance.
He said he'd lied to Ben about you an' that he'd shot him so's his sister would think you done it. You've been white, an' so I'm squarin' things for you. I'm wishin' you luck." For an instant he sat in the saddle, watching a new color surge into the stray-man's face. Then his pony was led away, through a tangle of undergrowth at the edge of the cottonwood.
Then he looked carefully at the stray-man's waist for signs that a weapon might have been concealed between the waist-band and the trousers in front. Then, apparently satisfied, he stepped back, his lips closed grimly. "Get off your horse," he ordered. Ferguson laughed as he swung down. "Anything to oblige a friend," he said, mockingly.
But I've done what I contracted to do an' there ain't anything more to keep me here. If you'll give me my time I'll be goin'." Stafford looked up at him with a sly, significant smile. "Why," he said, "Leviatt told me that you'd found somethin' real interestin' over on Bear Flat. Now, I shouldn't think you'd want to run away from her!" The stray-man's lips whitened a little.
That was somethin' which I was wantin' him to know. I don't want it to be said that I didn't give him a chance." Stafford rose from his chair, taking a step toward the stray-man. "Why, what ?" he began. But a look at the stray-man's face silenced him. "I've come over here to-day to show you that rustler I told you about yesterday. I'm goin' to look for him now.
When Ferguson stepped out of the door of the office, Stafford followed. The stray-man had said enough to arouse the manager's suspicions, and there was something about the stray-man's movements which gave the impression that he contemplated something more than merely pointing out the thief.
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