SUSPICIONS.
A week passed and nothing more had been seen
or heard of the Hains gang. The boys insisted on
being a part of the day shift and from six in the
morning until six at night they were out guarding
the herd. It was a free open life and they enjoyed
every minute of it. Young Royce improved steadily
and by the end of the week was able to sit up a part
of the time.
Several hours each day, while they were on duty,
the boys, under the skillful tutelage of Slim and Slats,
practiced throwing the lasso, a sport which they
found very fascinating.
"Yer'll shore be experts if yer keep it up much
longer," Slats told them after Bob had just executed
a particularly difficult throw over the head of a
young bull.
"When I can throw as well as you can I'll be
satisfied," Bob told him.
"What, him?" Slim had come up in time to hear
Bob's remark. "Shaw, he's no good."
"Who's no good?" Slats demanded very red in
the face.
"You ain't, that is, not with a rope, you ain't."
"Huh, 'f I couldn't beat you two ways o' Sundays
the only use I'd make of a rope'd be to hang myself."
Slats retorted.
"Whar'd yer want us ter sent yer remains?" Slim
asked gravely.
"Thar ain't goin' ter be any remains not till yer
improve a whole lot," Slats flung at him as he turned
away to attend to some duty. "Slim's all right," he
continued, turning to the boys, "till he thinks
somebody thinks as how he can do sumpin' better nor he
can, then he jest has to naturally shoot off his
mouth."
"But----"
"Course Slim's a good roper but, laws sakes
wouldn't do ter let him know yer thinks so. Why
only 'bout a month ago some idjut as ought ter have
known better, complimented him on his throwin' an'
right away he went an' bought a new hat two sizes
larger nor he'd been wearin' an' his old one only six
years old come next winter."
It was perhaps an hour later when Slim had a
chance to tell his side.
"Yer'd think ter hear that tall shank o' bones talk
that he'd invented the art o' ropin'. Why, bless yer
heart, I've seen that guy miss more steers nor yer
could shake a stick at/ Only time he's sure of
catchin' anything's when he's right enough ter lay
the loop over 'thout throwin' it 'tall."
Then, as he noticed the look of incredulity on the
"Course I'm only speakin' in comparative terms,
so to speak. What I mean is that compared with
some he'd measure up fairly well, mebby better nor
the average. But 'twouldn't do ter let him think yer
think so. He's the greatest feller yer ever saw ter
get a big head, Slats is. Why, 'twont more'n a
month ago that he went an' bought a new hat two
sizes bigger nor the one he'd been wearing jest
because some feller told him a throw he'd made was the
best he'd ever seen."
"And I don't suppose his old one was more than
six years old," Bob said soberly.
"'Twon't that much, he'd only had it five years
come Christmas."
"Can you beat it?" Bob asked a moment later after
the cowboy had left them. "And yet, I reckon it
would be hard to find two better friends anywhere."
"You said it," Jack agreed. "Why only the other
day Slats gave Grumpy a licking because he said that
Slim was too big for his pants."
"They're a funny pair all right, but mighty good
fellows when it comes right down to brass tacks.
But who's that fellow?" Bob asked pointing toward
a horseman who was riding toward them.
"He's not one of our boys, that's sure."
They were, at the time, on the side of the herd
nearest the house, all the others being some distance
away and the man was approaching from the direction
of Cold Springs. As he came nearer they could
see that he was middle aged, roughly, even raggedly
dressed, and rode a horse which looked as disreputable
as himself.
"Hello, boys," he sang out when he was within a
few feet of them.
"How do you do?" Bob replied courteously.
"Only middling. What ranch is this here?"
"It's the Lazy S," Bob told him.
"Lazy S, eh. Looks like it had better be called the
Busy S," he returned, glancing about. "How's
chances on landing a job?"
"You'll have to see Mr. Stebbins," Bob told him.
"Whar is he?"
"He's probably at the house."
"And how far away is it?"
"About two miles," Bob told him.
"Think he wants any more help?"
"Really I couldn't say."
"I heard him say the other day that he'd like one
or two more men," Jack volunteered.
"That's good news cause I sure do need one.
Which way is the house?"
"That way," Bob replied pointing. "You'll see
it as soon as you get over that rise."
"Then I go see him. Did you say he name is
Steblits?"
"Stebbins," Jack corrected him.
"Stebbins. I'll try to remember it," the man said
as he turned his horse and, with a parting wave of
his hand, rode off.
"He looks as though he might have seen better
days," Jack said when he was out of hearing.
"Doesn't look as though he could have seen much
worse ones," Bob replied and then he remained in
deep thought till Jack said:
"A penny for your thoughts."
"I was just thinking that I've seen that man before."
"You have? Where?"
"That's what I was trying to remember."
"Well, don't let me interrupt."
For several moments Bob did not speak. Something
in the man's voice rather than his looks had
awakened the memory of a few days past. Once
again he was sitting on a log watching a group of
men as they sat about a fire playing cards.
"I have it," he finally burst out. "That man
belongs to Red Hains' gang."
"What?"
"You heard what I said."
"But are you sure?'
"Almost. You see, I didn't get a very good look
at all of them but I remember that voice."
"But what's he doing here?"
"We could only guess at that but, taking it for
granted that I'm right, what would you guess?"
"That he's a spy, of course."
"That may be. Yes, you're probably right but my
guess is that he's spying after Royce."
"You mean--?"
"I mean that if he's the man I think he is, I
believe Hains has sent him here to do some harm to
Royce."
"What'll we do about it?"
"We ought to warn Jeb before he hires him, but I
don't see how we can do it."
"Nor I. We couldn't possibly get to the house
ahead of him without him seeing us."
"I have it," Bob said a moment later.
"What's your plan?"
"I'll go catch up with him and make some excuse
for going to the house, and maybe I'll get a chance
for a word with Jeb before he sees him. If he's all
right he can't object and if he isn't we should
worry."
"Good enough, but keep an eye on him. If he's
what you suspect he'll be suspicious. Don't let him
get the drop on you," Jack cautioned as Bob mounted
his horse.
"I'll be careful," he called back.
The stranger's horse was fully as slow as his
appearance indicated and it was but a few minutes
when Satan drew up alongside him. The man
glanced at Bob interrogatively but did not appear
either displeased or surprised.
"Just thought of something I had to go to the
house for," Bob told him.
"That's fine. I like company. Yer see I'm a
social critter, I am."
But he did not seem inclined to talk much as they
jogged along, although he answered pleasantly
enough whenever Bob spoke to him. To Bob's
disappointment Jeb came onto the porch as they rode
through the gate. He had hoped to be able to tell
him what he knew about the man before they met
but now that was impossible.
"That Stebbins?" the man asked
"Yes, that's he."
Bob noticed that Jeb was looking at the stranger
rather closely as he slipped from his horse and
advanced to meet him.
"The boy said as how you needed another hand,"
he began resting one foot on the lower step.
"Well, I don't know. Guess maybe, I could use
another man."
"Then I'm your best bet. I kin do most anythin'
from roping ter cooking."
"What's your handle?"
"Most folks call me Los Varney."
"I thought so but wasn't quite sure," Jeb cried
holding out his hand. "Don't you remember me?"
"Blast my eyes if it ain't old Jeb," the man almost
shouted grasping the outstretched hand. "The boy
said as how yer name was Stebbins but I didn't
connect up with yer. Thought yer'd gone East and it
must be all of fifteen year since we was up in the Bad
Lands."
"It's nearer twenty," Jeb told him still shaking his
hand.
"Mebby so, mebby so. Time sure gets away fast
when yer get along in years, don't it?"
"It sure does," Jeb agreed. "But how's the world
been using you?"
"Oh, 'bout good's I deserve, I reckon. Yer know
I never could keep a hold on any coin an' jest now
well, I sure need a job."
"Well, you've got one," Jeb assured him. "Turn
your nag into the corral and then come and get a
bite, that is if you're hungry."
"Ever remember seein' me when I wasn't?" the
man grinned.
Bob had stood by while the two men were talking,
his astonishment growing with every sentence. Was
it possible that he was mistaken? It would seem so
but he knew that he had an almost uncanny memory
of voices and he was not at all satisfied even though
Jeb had recognized in the man an old friend. Should
he tell Jeb what he suspected or would it be better to
wait developments? Perhaps it would be the better
plan to speak to Royce first and let him have a chance
to recognize the man if he had been a member of the
gang. Yes, that was the best plan, he decided and,
throwing the reins over Satan's head, he entered the
house.
He found Royce in the big living room sitting by
the window. He looked as Bob entered the room.
"Hello, Bob. In early aren't you?" he greeted him.
"A little. I want to ask you something."
"All right, shoot."
"Was there a man by the name of Los Varney in
Hains' gang?"
"Los Varney? Let me see. No, I think not,
leastwise I don't remember the name."
"You're sure?"
"Yep. That's not a name to forget very easily,
but, of course, I suppose most of them went by
assumed names and he might have been calling himself
something else. But what's the idea?"
Bob told him about the man who had applied for a
job and his suspicions concerning him.
"But you say Jeb knows him?" he asked as soon
as he had finished.
"Yes, he knows him all right. In fact it seems
that they're old friends or, at least, used to be."
"Then I guess that settles it."
"Not necessarily. You see, it's been twenty years
or so since they have seen each other and I reckon a
man go bad in less time than that."
"Well, that's right too," and Bob noticed that a
pained look crossed the other's face.
"I didn't mean--" he began, but Royce interrupted.
"I know you didn't. What kind of a looking fellow is he?"
"About average height, around forty-five, smooth
shaved, or rather he was perhaps four or five days
ago. Has a rather high forehead and brown hair.
That's about as well as I can describe him."
"But that description would fit half the members
of the gang," Royce smiled.
"I know it but it's the best I can do. You see, he
hasn't any outstanding characteristcs which make
him easy to describe. I reckon we'll have to wait till
you see him."
The opportunity came about a half hour later when
the man came into the room with Jeb.
"You've met Bob here," Jeb said. "And this is
Royce. He's got nicked a few days ago in a rumpus
we had with the Hains gang."
Bob watched the man closely as he stepped
forward and held out his hand to Royce.
"Glad ter meet yer, son," he said.
"Thanks. I'm glad to know any friend of
Mr. Stebbins," Royce said easily.
Bob could see that he was scanning the man's face
closely but, to his surprise, there was no look of
recognition in his eyes. Jeb and Varney soon went out
and the two were alone again.
"Well?" Bob asked.
"Nothing doing. Never saw the man before."
"You're sure?"
"Reasonably. Of course, he may have worn at
beard and has shaved it off. That probably would
change his looks enough so that I wouldn't recognize
him. You know, I was only with them a couple of
days and, of course, didn't get to know any of them
very well."
"Well, if he's what I thought, he's one peach of an
actor," Bob declared.
It was not until after supper was over that Bob
had a chance to tell Jack what had happened. He
knew by the looks on his brother's face that he was
crazy to learn how the man had succeeded in getting
into the good graces of Jeb.
"What's the idea?" he asked as soon as he got Bob
alone out by the corral. Bob told him what had
happened and he gave a low whistle.
"So you missed it that time?"
"I'm not so certain of that," Bob replied.
"But if he's a friend of Jeb."
"That's what Royce said, but, after all, that
doesn't prove anything. I tell you, Jack, that man
was playing cards by that fire the night they had me
caught. I know it but, of course, it's another thing to
prove it."
"Did you tell Jeb?"
"Not yet. Think I better?"
"Of course. What's the use in taking chances?"
"I suppose you're right, but I bet he'll laugh at the
idea. Remember, all I've got to go on is his voice."
It happened that Jeb joined them at that moment
and Bob told him all about it. Jeb's face was very
thoughtful while he was telling the story and when
he had finished, he said:
"I think you must be mistaken, Bob, but I'm glad
you told me. There's no doubt that he's Los
Varney all right, but it's not at all impossible that
you may be right. It's a long time ago that I knew
him and we were together for a year or more, but
I've lost track of him since then and he may have
gone wrong although, frankly, I don't think so.
However we'll keep an eye open and 'forewarned is
forearmed' you know."
"He didn't laugh anyhow," Jack declared as soon
as they were alone again.
Three days went by. Los Varney proved that he
had made no idle boast when he had said that he
could do most anything. The man was a splendid
rider and roper, and a good mixer with the boys who
seemed to like him from the very first. Bob could
not see that he displayed any more interest in Royce
than was perfectly natural for one of his make up.
He seemed naturally sympathetic and appeared
anxious to cheer the boy up whenever occasion
offered. But that was all.
But there was one member of the household who
did not like Los Varney.
"He's a snake in the grass," Sue told Bob before
Los had been with them a day.
"What makes you say that?" Bob asked her.
"How do I know. I just know it, that's all," she
retorted.
"Intuition?"
"Maybe."
And then Bob told her what he suspected and why.
"I knew it," she declared, her eyes flashing fire,
as soon as he had finished.
"Then you think I'm right?"
"Of course, you're right. Didn't I tell you he's
crooked?"
"But how can I prove it?"
"You can't. That is you can't till something happens
but, you take my word for it, something'll happen
before many days go by. Those fellows are
short on patience and don't wait long. You'll see."
It was two nights later when something happened
which proved to Bob, at least, that both Sue and he
were right in their judgment of Los Varney. He
woke up sometime during the night and, for some
reason which he could not fathom, was unable to go
to sleep again. He turned first on one side and then
on the other, but it was no use. He was not conscious
that he had heard anything or that anything had
awakened him. Finally he determined to get a drink
of water and slipped quietly from the bed careful not
to disturb his brother.
In the kitchen he found the pail empty and, knowing
that he would probably wake the whole family if
he used the pump, he determined to go out to the
pump near the barn. The night was very warm and
he did not fear taking cold even though he was clad
only in his pajamas. He had gotten his drink and
was about to start back when something down by the
corral caught his eye. It was bright moonlight and
he could see for a long distance.
"Wonder what that is," he thought.
Then he quickly slipped behind a tree, for he had
seen that it was a man. The distance was too great
for him to be able to identify him but he did note
that it was a man of average height. For some
moments the man stood perfectly still and, happening
to raise his eyes, Bob saw far out on the prairie the
flash of light. Three times it flashed and then
stopped. Then he glanced toward the man by the
corral and his heart gave a great bound as he saw
the signal returned.
"I knew it," he thought. "But I've got to be sure
that it's he."
But that was easier thought than done. There was
nothing between the tree and the corral behind which
he could hide and the man would not come much
nearer him than he now was if he waited until he
returned to the house. While he was trying to devise
some plan the signal from the prairie came again and
this time it flashed for a longer time before waiting
for the answer. At first Bob thought they might be
using the Morse code. He could read it easily but
when he tried to translate the flashes into words he
was unable to get a single letter and was forced to
conclude that they were using an arbitrary code.
He thought of making a wide detour behind the
barn and up the other side of the corral but decided
that it would take so much time that the chances
were that the man would be gone before he could get
there. Then suddenly a plan struck him which he
believed gave a fair promise of success, provided only
that the man did not see him too soon.
Stretching both arms out in front he stepped boldly
out from behind the tree and started to walk
directly toward the man who was still flashing his
light. If only he would keep it up until he got near
enough to see him plainly, he thought, and walked as
rapidly as he dared. Closer and closer he came and
still the man did not once turn around. Not until he
was within twenty feet of him did he become aware
of his presence, then he turned and saw him.
"What are you--" the man began and then stopped
for Bob was walking straight past seemingly not
paying him the slightest attention. "He's sleep
walkin'," he heard him mutter as he passed within
three feet of him.
It was Los Varney, Bob got a good look at his face
just as he turned and he also had no trouble in
recognizing his voice. He walked straight past him and
did not change his course until he was all of a
hundred yards away. Then he turned in such a way as
to bring him back in a wide circle to the front of
the house. What Los was doing he did not know as
he did not dare to turn his head in the slightest
degree. The man might be following him and he
feared that the least false move would give him
away. So he reached the house and got to his room
without another sight of the man.
"Whew, but I believe it worked," he thought as
he crept into bed.
That Los Varney was the man he thought had
been proven to his own satisfaction but just what
his object was was still an open question. Was it to
wreak vengeance on Royce for deserting the gang
or was it to gain some information which would
enable Hains to run off more cattle? Ought he to go
to Jeb at once and tell him what he had seen or
would it be better to wait until morning. On the one
hand there was the possibility that they were going
to make another raid that very night but, on the
other, should he try and inform the foreman right
away, the chances were more than even that Los
would be aware of it. On the whole he decided that
the better plan was to wait until morning and take a
chance that whatever the signals meant it was not
scheduled for that night.
"I might spill all the beans," he thought, "if I do
anything more tonight."
It was a long time before sleep came to him but
finally he dropped off and the sun was shining in
at the window when he awoke. He lost no time in
hunting up Jeb and telling him what he had seen in
the night.
"Well, well, is it possible that old Los has gone
wrong? It looks like it for a fact. But you certainly
did pull off a slick stunt and I'll bet he's guessing
now what it was all about."
"But don't you think it's serious?" Bob asked
anxiously.
"Serious! You bet your life it's serious. If Los
Varney belongs to that gang, and I reckon I've got
to own up that the chances are that he does, after
what you saw last night, there's no telling what may
happen."
"What are you going to do about it?"
Jeb scratched his head. "What would you do?"
he asked.
"I'd have him arrested."
"That might be a good plan but I was thinking
that perhaps it would be better to give him a little
more rope and see if he won't hang himself. If he
ain't suspicious any now he'll go right ahead and,
now that we know that he's up to something, maybe
we can catch him at it or find out what his gang's
planning to do."
"I guess that would be better," Bob agreed
thoughtfully.
"Then suppose you and Jack turn detective and
keep an eye on him. But you'll have to be mighty
careful and not give yourselves away. There's one
thing in your favor," he added after a moment's
pause. "Los isn't what you'd call quick witted, that
is, he didn't used to be, and I kind of wonder that
Hains would pick him for a job of this kind."
"Perhaps he thought you wouldn't suspect him
because you used to know him," Bob suggested.
"I reckon that's it and, frankly, I didn't, not till
you told me what you saw last night."
Just then Charlie rang the bell for breakfast and,
with a parting word to be careful, Jeb led the way
into the house.