Chance nosed across the yard toward the gate.  Then he stopped and looked back.  Sundown encouraged him by waving his arm toward the south.  “Go ahead, Chance.  The boss wants you.”

Chance trotted toward the cottonwood, nosed among them, and finally took Sundown’s trail to the knoll.

Sundown crept to the bunk-house, wondering what had become of the Mexican, Tony.  He determined to search for him, but became dizzy, and, crawling to a bunk, lay back groaning as the dull pain in his head leaped intermittently to blinding stabs of agony.  It seemed ages before he heard the quick staccato of hoofs on the road.  He raised himself on his elbow as Shoop and Corliss rode up on their mud-spattered and steaming ponies.  Sundown called as they dismounted at the corral.

Corliss and Shoop stamped in, breathing hard.  “What’s up?” questioned Corliss.

“They—­they got the money,” muttered Sundown, pointing toward the office.

“Who?  See what’s up, Bud.”

Shoop swung out and across the enclosure.

Corliss stooped over Sundown.  “What’s wrong, Sun?  Why, Great God, you’re hurt!”

The rancher brought water and bathed Sundown’s head.  “Who did it?” he questioned.

“I dunno, boss.  I come and caught ’em at it.  Two of ’em, I guess.  I was tryin’ to stop one fella from takin’ it when the other slips me one on the head, and I takes a sleep.  I was lookin’ for Tony in the office.”

“Where’s Tony?”

“I dunno.  I was goin’ to see—­but—­my head . . .”

“That’s all right.  You take it easy as you can.  I’ll find out.”

And Corliss left the room.  With Chance he explored the outbuildings and finally discovered the Mexican bound and gagged in the stable.  He released him, but could make nothing of his answers save that some one had come at night, tied his hands and feet, and carried him from the ranch-house.

Corliss returned to Sundown.  In the bunkhouse he encountered Shoop.

“They robbed the safe,” said Shoop, and he spoke with a strange quietness.  “Better come and take a look, Jack.”

“Didn’t blow her,” said Shoop, pointing toward the corner as they entered the office.

Corliss knelt and examined the safe.  “The man that did it knew the combination,” he said.  “There isn’t a mark on the door.”

He rose, and Shoop met his eye.  Corliss shook his head.  “I don’t know,” he said, as if in answer to a silent questioning.  Then he told Shoop to look for tracks.

“The rain’s fixed the tracks,” said Shoop, turning in the doorway.  “But it ain’t drowned out my guess on this proposition.”

“Well, keep guessing, Bud, till I talk to Sundown.”  And Corliss walked slowly to the bunkhouse.  He sat on the edge of the bunk and laid his hand on Sundown’s sleeve.  “Look here, Sun, if you know anything about this, just tell me.  The money’s gone and you didn’t get that cut on the head trying to take it.  I guess you’re straight, all right, but I think you know something.”