He had decided to follow the tracks leading up the ditch and found no
difficulty in doing so at a fast walk. Without any hesitation they
paralleled the edge of the lateral. Nor had the deputy travelled a quarter
of a mile before he made a discovery. The rider on the right hand side of
the stream had been chewing tobacco, and he had a habit of splashing his
mark on boulders he passed in the form of tobacco juice. Half a dozen
times before he reached the Lee ranch the ranger saw this signature of
identity writ large on smooth rocks shining in the sun. The last place he
saw it was at the point where the two riders deflected from the lateral
toward the ranch house, following tracks which led up from the bottom of
the ditch.
An instant later Flatray had dodged back into the chaparral, for somebody
was driving a flock of sheep down to the ditch. He made out that there
were two riders behind them, and that they had no dog. For the present his
curiosity was satisfied. He thought he knew why they were watering sheep
in this odd fashion. Swiftly he had made a circuit, drawn rein in front of
the store, and dropped in just in time to hear his name. Now, as with one
ear he listened to Alan's account of the hold-up, with his subconscious
mind he was with the sheep-herders who were driving the flock back into
the pasture.
"Looks like our friend the bad man was onto his job all right," was the
deputy's only comment when Alan had finished.
"I'll bet he's making his getaway into the hills mighty immediate,"
chuckled Baker. "He can't find a bank in the mountainside to deposit that
gold any too soon to suit him."
"Sho! I'll bet he ain't worried a mite. He's got his arrangements all
made, and likely they'll dovetail to suit him. He's put his brand on that
gold to stay," answered Farnum confidently.
Jack's mild blue eyes rested on him amiably. "Think so, Bob?"
"I ain't knockin' you any, Jack. You're all right. But that's how I figure
it out, and, by Gad! I'm hopin' it too," Farnum made answer recklessly.
Flatray laughed and strolled from the crowded room to the big piazza. A
man had just cantered up and flung himself from his saddle. The ranger,
looking at him, thought he had never seen another so strikingly handsome
an Apollo. Black eyes looked into his from a sun-tanned face perfectly
modelled. The pose of the head and figure would have delighted a
sculptor.