ing 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."
