Johnny knew that they had lately been chased and frightened, and that there was only one logical reason for that, because none of the Rolling R boys had been down on the Sinkhole range since the colts were branded and these horses driven down for the summer grazing.
Johnny rode to where he had seen the horseman, picked up the tracks of shod hoofs and followed them to the fence.

Saw where two panels of wire had been loosened and afterwards refastened.

Some one had dropped a couple of new staples beside one post, and there were fresh hammer dents in the wood.

Johnny had not done it; there was only one other answer to the question of the fence-mender's reason.

There was no mystery whatever.
Johnny looked, and he knew.
He looked out across the fence and knew, too, how helpless he was.