But he could not fasten anything on the man whom he had come to regard as his greatest enemy, and whom he knew hated him. Whenever he sought Shan Rhue, he was always to be found at his haunts.

Tired of the inaction, Ted met Shan Rhue on the street one day, and resolved to have it out with him.

"Shan Rhue, I want to speak with you," said Ted, stopping him.

"Well, what is it you want?" asked Shan Rhue.

"I want you to tell me where Stella is," said Ted.

Shan Rhue stared at him in apparent amazement.

"How should I know where she is?" asked Shan Rhue, with a wicked twinkling in his eye.

"I don't know," answered Ted; "but I think you do know."

"So I supposed, from the way in which you have had me followed. I suppose you miss her a good deal."

"Her aunt, Mrs. Graham, is distraught with grief and anxiety. Surely you have no fight on her, or on Miss Fosd.i.c.k, either, that you should keep them apart."

"No. I have no fight with a woman. But why should I know where the young lady is?"

"There are several reasons why you should have had her taken away. But I think the princ.i.p.al reason is that you think you can get square with me by doing so."

"There might be something in that. Mind me, I am not confessing that I took her away, or that I know who did take her away, or where she is.

You have seen me in town every day since the little trouble we had over that old thief Norris, haven't you?"

"Yes, but that tells me nothing. It might not be necessary for you to leave this town to have her hidden somewhere."

"But you and your friends searched the town from one end to the other, and you did not find her."

"True, but for all that I am satisfied that you know where she is.

Suppose we call it off, and that you tell me where she is."

"If I knew, I would not tell you," said Shan Rhue, his voice intense with hatred.

"What do you mean? Are you such a coward that you will punish a woman for your spite against a man? I did not think that of you. I believe Stella Fosd.i.c.k was carried off by you, of your men, acting under your instructions."

Shan Rhue's only reply was a sneering laugh.

"If I discover that what I say is true," said Ted, in a low voice so full of purpose that it was in itself a warning, "you will be the sorriest man in all this country. I will make you suffer by it even as you have caused suffering to others."

"So you have suffered, eh? That is good! Now I am a little better satisfied. But my debt to you is not yet paid. There are other things in store for you."

"What do you mean, you dog? By Heaven, I know now that you did cause her abduction, and I shall find her. You cannot keep me away from the place in which you have hidden her. I shall find her if she is at the end of the earth. When I do find her, if anything has harmed her, you, Shan Rhue, gambler, thief, and murderer, shall pay for it, and pay heavier than for any amus.e.m.e.nt you have had in all your miserable lying, thieving career."

As the epithets addressed to Shan Rhue left Ted's lips, the bully sprang back, and made a motion to draw his six-shooter.

But before he had his hand on his hip his eyes were looking into the bore of Ted's forty-four. Instead of drawing a gun, therefore, he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his dry lips.

Shan Rhue feared Ted Strong.

"Remember," said Ted, before turning away, "I know that you have spirited Stella Fosd.i.c.k away. But I shall find her, and when I am sure of it you better leave the country before I reach the place where you are, for as sure as I am standing here I will make my previous experience with you so tame that you will be glad to crawl in the dust on your face to be forgiven."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Shan Rhue. "So it hurts as bad as that, eh? Good!"

He went away laughing, and it was all Ted could do to control himself, and keep from leaping upon him and punching him. Instead, he jumped into his saddle and rode Sultan like the wind out to the cow camp.

For several days he had paid no attention to the herd, leaving it under the general direction of Bud, while he stayed in town trying to hear some news of Stella, or was riding all over the country with one or another of the boys, searching for her.

As he rode into camp with disappointment and dejection written on his face, he was met by Mrs. Graham, who had grown pale and wan with anxiety.

"Any news of her?" she asked Ted.

"None, but I haven't given up hope by any means. Don't worry so, Mrs.

Graham. I think I am on the track at last, and that we shall soon have her with us again."

But Mrs. Graham only walked away with the tears coursing down her cheeks. The herd was grazing to the west of the camp, and Ted rode out to it, and to where Bud was sitting quietly in his saddle watching it.

There was an air of dejection about Bud, also. Indeed, every fellow in the outfit was secretly worrying and grieving for Stella.

"Say, Ted," said Bud, as Ted rode up, "I think thar's somethin' wrong with ther dogies."

Cow-punchers call the small Southwestern cattle "dogies."

"What do you mean?" asked Ted. "I was looking them over this morning.

Rode through the bunch. They seemed to be all right then."

"Oh, they're eatin' well, an' aire as likely a lot o' beef ez ever I see," replied Bud.

"Well, what then?"

"Thar ain't so many o' them ez there wuz, er my eye hez gone back on me."

"Any of them get away?"

"I figger it so."

"What have you found out?"

"Some one is liftin' our cattle. That's what I mean."

"Great Scott! What makes you think so?"

"Ted, ther herd has shrunk."

"You judge by the eye, I suppose."

"Yes. That is the only way I have o' judgin'. We hev never had a count o' them since we drove them onto this range."