"
"What d'yer mean by that?" Flatbush's hand sprang to his side.
But Bud was quicker, and in the flash of an eye had the muzzle of his
six-shooter under the nose of the night foreman, who shrank from it.
"I mean thet yer a crook, an' I'll give yer jest three minutes ter rope
yer hoss an' git."
Flatbush turned and hurried to the remuda, caught and saddled his horse,
and rode out of camp.
"I've had my eye on that maverick fer quite some time," said Bud,
turning to the boys after he had watched Flatbush fade into the
distance. "I've suspected him o' turnin' off our cattle every night. I
haven't caught him at it, or thar wouldn't've been no necessity o'
chasin' him out. He'd've gone feet foremost."
"What do you think of it, Bud?" asked Ted, handing the little mirror
over to the golden-haired puncher.
Bud took it in his hand, and looked at it a long time.
"It shore is Stella's," he said. "I reckernize it by this leetle dent on
ther side o' it."
He was holding it in the palm of his hand, looking down at it intently.
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