“The h—­l you did!” shouted Snood, and his face flamed.  “See here, stranger, you’re the second man to accuse some of my riders of such dirty tricks.  That’s enough for me.  I was foreman of this ranch till this minute.  I was foreman, but there were things gain’ on thet I didn’t know of.  I kicked on thet deal with Martin Cole.  I quit.  I steal no man’s water.  Is thet good with you?”

Snood’s query was as much a challenge as a question.  He bit savagely at his pipe.  Hare offered his hand.

“Your word goes.  Dave Naab said you might be Holderness’s foreman, but you weren’t a liar or a thief.  I’d believe it even if Dave hadn’t told me.”

“Them fellers you tracked rode in here yesterday.  They’re gone now.  I’ve no more to say, except I never hired them.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  Good-day, Snood, I’m in something of a hurry.”

With that Hare faced about in the direction of White Sage.  Once clear of the corrals he saw the village closer than he had expected to find it.  He walked Silvermane most of the way, and jogged along the rest, so that he reached the village in the twilight.  Memory served him well.  He rode in as August Naab had ridden out, and arrived at the Bishop’s barn-yard, where he put up his horse.  Then he went to the house.  It was necessary to introduce himself for none of the Bishop’s family recognized in him the young man they had once befriended.  The old Bishop prayed and reminded him of the laying on of hands.  The women served him with food, the young men brought him new boots and garments to replace those that had been worn to tatters.  Then they plied him with questions about the Naabs, whom they had not seen for nearly a year.  They rejoiced at his recovered health; they welcomed him with warm words.

Later Hare sought an interview alone with the Bishop’s sons, and he told them of the loss of the sheep, of the burning of the new corrals, of the tracks leading to Holderness’s ranch.  In turn they warned him of his danger, and gave him information desired by August Naab.  Holderness’s grasp on the outlying ranges and water-rights had slowly and surely tightened; every month he acquired new territory; he drove cattle regularly to Lund, and it was no secret that much of the stock came from the eastern slope of Coconina.  He could not hire enough riders to do his work.  A suspicion that he was not a cattle-man but a rustler had slowly gained ground; it was scarcely hinted, but it was believed.  His friendship with Dene had become offensive to the Mormons, who had formerly been on good footing with him.  Dene’s killing of Martin Cole was believed to have been at Holderness’s instigation.  Cole had threatened Holderness.  Then Dene and Cole had met in the main street of White Sage.  Cole’s death ushered in the bloody time that he had prophesied.  Dene’s band had grown; no man could say how many men he had or who they were.  Chance and Culver were openly his lieutenants, and