“They haven’t stampeded.  I never had the plane in the air till this morning, and then I flew—­toward the ranch.  These horses down here have been stolen.  About half of them, I should say.  I was gone for nearly three days, getting that airplane from across the line.  A greaser told me about it, and took me where it was.  And when I got back I didn’t ride the range the way I should have done—­the way I did do, at first.  I was working on the airplane, all the time I possibly could.  I ran across a fellow that’s been an aviator, and brought him down here, and he helped.  And so the horses were stolen—­a few at a time, I think.  I believe I’d have missed them if they had gone all at once.”

Johnny could feel the silence at the other end of the line.  It lasted so long that he wondered dully if Sudden were waiting for more, but Johnny felt as though there was nothing more to add.  Of what use would it be to protest that he was sorry?  Bad enough to rob a man, without insulting him with puerile regrets.

“Now—­let’s get this thing straight.”  Sudden’s voice when it came was fuller than ever, smoother than ever.  It was a bad sign.  “You say—­about half of the horses on that range have been stolen?  Have you counted them?”

“No.  I’m just guessing.  I don’t think I’ve lost more than half.  I just made a rough tally of what I found to-day.”

“You say not more than half, then.  But you’re guessing.  Now, when did you first miss them?”

“To-day.  I was all taken up with that damned airplane before, and I didn’t pay much attention.  This morning the fellow here took me for a flight, and we went east.  Beyond the red hill I happened to see four riders driving a few horses.  They were inside our fence.  I didn’t think what it meant then, because Bland was climbing in a spiral and my mind was on that.  But I rode over there this afternoon, and I saw where they’d let down the fence and then put it back up again.  And they’d tried to cover up the tracks of horses going through.  So I rode all afternoon, making a sort of tally of what horses ranged over that way.  A lot of ’em’s gone.  I missed some of the best ones—­some big geldings that I think I’d know anywhere.”

“You say they went through the fence on the east line?”

“Yes, sir.  It was just after sunrise that I saw them.”

“And it was afternoon, you say, before it occurred to you that they might possibly have been stealing my horses.  In the meantime, you were up this way, playing hell with the round-up.”

“Yes, sir, that’s about the way it stacks up.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.  Try and get back what horses I can, I guess.”  Johnny did not speak as though he had much faith.

“Going to go out and round them up with your flying machine, I suppose!  That sounds practical, perfectly plausible.  As much so as the rest of the story.”

Johnny was too utterly miserable and hopeless to squirm at the sarcasm.