the balmy air on the outside of the dwelling, talking together in low
tones.

They were Fred Whitney, whose bandaged arm rested in a sling, Monteith
Sterry, and Jennie Whitney. The memory of the recent affliction
suffered in the death of the father naturally subdued the voices and
tinged the words with a seriousness that would not have been felt at
other times.

Young Sterry, as already stated, had accepted an engagement with
the Live Stock Association, which required him to investigate the
operations of the rustlers over a large portion of Wyoming and
Montana, and to report at regular intervals to his superior officers.

This was perilous business, but Sterry set about the work with a
vigour, directness and intelligence that were felt over an extent of
territory numbering hundreds of square miles, and made him a marked
man by the rustlers, who are always quick to identify their friends
and enemies. It seemed to make little difference, however, to him, who
loved the excitement. He was a capital pistol and rifle-shot, a fine
horseman, and as devoid of fear as the men against whom he directed
his movements.

Unconsciously Monteith Sterry brought a grievous peril upon his
friends, who held him in so high regard. Hated intensely by the
rustlers, they were not long in learning that he spent a great deal
of his time at the Whitneys. They came to be regarded, therefore, as
aiders and abettors of his. This enmity was emphasized by the attack
of which an account has been given.