It was Jack Richie's voice that shouted, and it was Jack Richie's hand that shook Loudon awake.
"Whatsa matter?" Loudon opened sleepy eyes.
"Yore hoss is outside. Yore hoss, Ranger, an'----"
Jack Richie was almost overset by the blanket-shedding cyclone that whirled out of bed and through the doorway. In front of the ranch house stood Ranger, surrounded by Richie's amazed and conjecturing cowboys. The horse raised his wise head, cocked his ears, and nickered softly at Loudon's approach.
"It's him," grinned Loudon. "It's the little hoss. Well, fellah, you old tiger-eye!"
He rubbed the white spot on Ranger's nose. The horse nipped his fingers with soft lips.
"Found him tied to the post out back o' the wagon shed," volunteered the cook. "I thought I was seein' things."
"There was a flour-sack over his head," explained the cook. "Here it is."
"That don't tell me nothin'," Loudon said. "Everybody uses Triple X. An' that hackamore could be just anybody's, too. Whoever brought him shore walked in the water."
"It ain't likely possible now," observed Jack Richie, "that Rufe Cutting could 'a' got religion or somethin'."
"It's possible, but it ain't likely," said Loudon. "Well, fellah, c'mon an' get yuh a drink, an' then for the big feed. Yo're gone off a good forty pounds since yuh quit me."
Later, Loudon, in company with Laguerre, visited the post where Ranger had been tied. Laguerre closely scrutinized the ground in the vicinity.
"Hoss she been tied up six-seven hour," observed Laguerre.
"It's 'bout half-past five now. That makes it ten or eleven when he was brought in."
"'Bout dat. Feller lead heem een. Hard to read de sign on de grass, but eet look lak de feller not walk good een hees boot--dey too beeg, mabbeso. Come 'long. We weel see w'ere feller she leave hees hoss."
They followed the trail a hundred yards, and then Laguerre knelt down, his eyes searching the grass. He picked up a small stone and held it up. The stone was sharp-cornered. It was stained a dark red.
"Feller she treep un fall on hees han's un knees," explained Laguerre. "Lef han' heet de leetle rock, un geet cut some. Han' bleed on eet."
Laguerre rose, tossed away the stone, and proceeded to follow the trail. He led the way to a tall pine some three hundred yards distant from the ranch house. Even Loudon's unpractised eyes told him that a horse had stood beneath the pine.