Slim rode for another hour and then, with the moonlight bright, found a suitable camping place away from the trail. He tethered Lightning and unrolled his own blanket. In spite of his worry over Chuck’s disappearance, he was soon asleep, worn out by the previous night ride and the long day in the saddle.

He was up with the dawn and a few minutes later, astride Lightning, was going down the trail. It was nearly mid morning when he reached the railroad and turned to his left to follow the line to the cattle shipping point.

A locomotive hooted a few minutes later and Slim moved away from the track as a transcontinental limited roared by. Passengers on the rear platform waved to the lone rider and Slim returned the greeting. Far down the rails he could see the cluster of buildings that was Mopstick, but the limited shot by without stopping.

Mopstick consisted of a water tank, a blistered station, three boxcars which had been set on the ground for the families of the section men, and the stockyards. There was no store.

Slim tied Lightning in the shadow of the water tank where a trough overflowed with cool water. Entering the depot, he found the operator busy copying orders for a freight that was wheezing along in the wake of the limited.

Slim had reached the point where he needed information and needed it in a hurry. When the agent turned around he produced the small badge of authority from the governor and found that it opened, as though by magic, the way to obtain the facts he sought.

“I want to see your records on cattle shipments in the last year,” said Slim.

Without protest, the agent produced the large book with carbons of the bills of lading. The Diamond Dot, the smallest outfit in the north end of the Creeping Shadows, had shipped as many cattle as the Double O and the Box B combined.

“The Diamond Dot is a pretty good customer of this railroad,” said Slim.

“Just about the best we’ve got around here. They’ve been shipping a lot more stuff in the last year than ever before.”

“Ever hear anything about any rustling going on in the Creeping Shadows country?” asked Slim, watching the agent intently.

“Sure. There’s been bad talk for a couple of years, but nothing seems to come of it. Lots of people think the Box B and the Double O are getting ready to grab the Diamond Dot.”

“Who says so?”

“Why I’ve heard Hack Cook of the Diamond Dot tell how the big outfits were trying to run over him.”

“Then doesn’t it seem kinda queer that Cook’s shipping as many cattle as the other two combined?”

“I asked him about that once,” replied the railroad man, “and he said he was cleaning out his range so if they chased him out he wouldn’t lose so much.”

Slim grunted. It was an explanation, but a pretty thin one. He went out to the yards. They had not been used for some weeks, but he recalled that the last bill of lading had been dated only the week before. He turned back to the station.

“Your last bill of lading was dated only a week ago,” he told the agent, “but those yards haven’t been used for at least a month. Something funny’s going on around here. You’d better talk and talk fast.”

“I didn’t say the cattle had been shipped from here,” replied the agent. “You didn’t ask me where they were shipped from. Just keep your temper and I’ll tell you.”

The freight whistled in, stopping only long enough for water and orders, and then clanked out again. When he had reported the passage of the freight, the agent turned to Slim.

“Cook drives his cattle through a low pass in the Cajons and hits the main line about fifteen miles below here. In order to save time we load direct on a way freight, using a portable chute.”

“Then Cook lets you know a couple of days in advance so you can have the chute on the way freight?”

“Sure. I have to see that the freight’s carrying enough empty cattle cars to take care of his stuff. He’s shipping two cars out tomorrow night.”

“You’re certain about that?”

The agent handed Slim a copy of an order he had sent the dispatcher, asking for two empty cattle cars in the way freight the next night.

Slim tossed the order back.

“Keep your mouth shut about my visit. If a word leaks out that I’ve been here, I’ll know who’s to blame and I’ll see that you get in plenty of trouble.”

He hurried out of the station, his mind buzzing with plans. Cook was shipping cattle the next night fifteen miles down the line. It was time for action. There wasn’t a minute to lose. Hours of hard riding faced him, but he felt that within the next two days the mystery of the rustling in the Creeping Shadows country would be solved.