that cayuse never saw Oregon. He was raised right on this flat, and he
belongs to old Rodway. I've got to lead him back there and turn him over
to-day."

Pink took three puffs at his cigarette, and lifted his long lashes to
Rowdy's gloom-filled face. "Stole?" he asked briefly.

"Stole," Rowdy repeated disgustedly. "So was the whole blame' bunch, as near
as I can make out."

"We might 'a' knowed it. We might 'a' guessed Harry Conroy wouldn't have a
straight title to anything if he could make it crooked. I bet he never
finished paying back that money yuh lent him--out uh the kindness uh your
heart. Did he?" Pink leaned against the corral fence and kicked meditatively
at a snow-covered rock.

"He did not, m' son. Chub's all I ever got out uh the deal--and I haven't
even got him. I borrowed him from Rodway to pack my bed over--borrowed the
blame' little runty cayuse that cost me sixty-four hard-earned dollars;
that's what Harry borrowed of me. And every blame' gazabo on the flat wanted
to know what I was doing with him!"

"I can tell yuh where t' find Conroy, Rowdy. He's working for an outfit down
on the river. I'd sure fix him for this! Yuh got plenty of evidence; you can
send him up like a charm. It was different when he cut your latigo strap in
that rough-riding contest; yuh couldn't prove it on him. But this--why, man,
it's a cinch!"

"I haven't lost Harry Conroy, so I ain't looking for him just now," growled
Rowdy. "So long as he keeps out uh reach, I won't ask no more of him.