"Rick Bemis. He--he's one dandy fellow. We've worked together over two years."
"H'm. How long's this rustling been going on?"
"Quite a bunch, I'd say, but I don't know. They never tell me or Rick anythin'."
Bud's tone was bitter, and Stratton noticed it in spite of his preoccupation. Rustling! That would account for several of the things that had puzzled him. Rustling was possible, too, with the border-line comparatively near, and that stretch of rough, hilly country which touched the lower extremity of the ranch. But for the stealing to go on for three or four months, without something drastic being done to stop it, seemed peculiar, to say the least.
"What's been done about it?" Buck asked briefly.
"Oh, they've gone out at night a few times, but they never caught anybody that I heard. Seems like the thieves were too slick, or else--"
He paused; Buck regarded him curiously through the faintly luminous shadows.
Bud moved uneasily. "It ain't anythin' special," he returned evasively. "All this time they never left anybody down to Las Vegas till Rick was sent day before yesterday. I up an' told Tex straight out there'd oughta be another fellow with him, but all he done was to bawl me out an' tell me to mind my own business. It ain't safe, an' now they've gone out--"
Again he broke off, his voice a trifle husky with emotion. He was evidently growing more and more worked up and alarmed for the safety of his friend. It was plain, too, that the recent departure of the punchers for the scene of action, instead of reassuring Bud, had greatly increased his anxiety. Buck decided that the situation wasn't as simple as it looked, and promptly determined on a little action.
"Would it ease your mind any if we saddled up an' followed the bunch?" he asked.
Jessup drew a quick breath and half rose from the bunk. "By cripes, yes!" he exclaimed. "Yuh mean you'd--"
"Sure," said Stratton, reaching for his boots. "Why not? If there's going to be any excitement I'd like to be on hand. Pile into your clothes, kid, and let's go."
Jessup began to dress rapidly. "I don't s'pose Tex'll be awful pleased," he murmured, dragging on his shirt.
"I don't see he'll have any kick coming," returned Buck easily. "If he's laying for rustlers, seems like he'd ought to have routed out the two of us in the beginning to have as big a crowd as possible. You never know what you're up against with those slippery cusses."