Once a week, Ford came to bring his food, a signal mark of favor, for the ranch cooks supplied the others.  And as month after month passed, Bob developed wonderfully.  The free, outdoor life made his muscles like steel and the responsibility and solitude matured him, so that instead of the rather timid boy who had stepped from the limited that morning, he was a powerful, self-reliant young man.

Realizing this and feeling his desire growing stronger, at the end of the sixth month to learn the truth about his father when Ford paid him, Bob asked if he could ride over to Red Top for a day.

In reply to the ranchman’s question as to the reason, he said he wanted to find out about a man.

At this answer, Ford scanned his face closely, but, unable to read its expression, gave his permission, provided he took the dog, saying he would stand Bob’s tour of duty.

His heart agog, Bob was on his way early the next morning, the faithful Chester at his side.

The village of Red Top was similar to Fairfax, but being the location of the Land Office was of more importance.  As the boy, accompanied by the dog passed along the one street of the town, they attracted much attention, for many of the people recognized Chester.

Drawing rein, Bob dismounted at the store, went inside and asked where he could find out who owned property in the town fifteen years ago.

The interest of the loungers in the boy was no whit lessened by this question and several of them chorused: 

“The Land Office, right next door.”

Thanking them collectively, Bob went out, leaving the idlers to speculate over his identity and purpose.

But though he found the Land Office without difficulty, he could make neither head nor tail out of the records.

Noticing the perplexity on his face, the clerk, a kindly-faced, gray-haired man, asked him for what he was searching.

“To see if Horace Chester ever owned any property in Red Top.”

“I can tell you that without looking,” replied the clerk.  “He had one of the best ranches in Oklahoma.  It was good when he died.  But it’s worth ten times as much now.”

This information set Bob’s head in a whirl, and for some minutes he could not speak, but when he did, he asked hesitatingly: 

“Was he—­was he crazy?”

“Crazy? well, I should say not!” ejaculated the clerk, staring at Bob in wonder.

“Who owns the property now?”

“A.  Leon Dardus.”

“How’d he get it?”

“By will.  There was a long legal battle between Sam and John Ford and Dardus.  But Dardus finally won.”

“Where is the ranch?”

“Twenty miles south of here.  Jim Haskins hires it.”

At these surprising answers, Bob’s heart seemed to come up in his throat, stifling his speech.  But noticing that his questions had aroused the clerk’s curiosity, he hurriedly left the office.