"'Tis too late to make any difference," replied the other scout; "and do you remember tellin' me once that it's no time to change mounts when crossin' a stream? Now that I've started on this painted pony I'll stick to the same through good winds and foul. If the little cayuse c'n dump me, he's welcome to try, that's all." Evidently Jimmy's old stubborn nature was on deck again. He did hate to give anything up the worst kind; though he admitted that there were some exceptions to this rule and one of them was whenever he found himself on a sickening heaving sea. "I hope the cattle will be found feedin' in the place they called a coulie?" Jimmy went on to say a minute later, as he strove earnestly to make out the conformation of the low hills they were approaching. Now Ned had just been wondering on his own account what Chunky expected to do in case the herd had wandered away. Would he start to follow them, making use of his training as a tracker in order to stick to the trail the animals would have left behind them? Ned believed so. He had studied the lanky puncher well, and found evidences of great pertinacity in his make-up. Chunky would not be the one to quit easily. On the contrary, Ned felt positive he would keep moving if it took the remainder of that night. "Chances are they'll not wander far away, Jimmy," he told the other scout, who was evidently beginning to cross bridges before he came to them, as was his habit, and so attempt more or less unnecessary work. "But I don't hear any signs of the critters, do you, Ned?" continued Jimmy. "Why no, and you couldn't hardly expect to, what with all the noise we're making," Ned replied, shortly; "though the wind is coming almost in our faces, and seems like we might hear if a bull bellowed. But leave all that to Chunky. He knows what to do, Jimmy. Just look out for your pony, and keep close by; that's all you've got to do." Gradually the hills assumed more shape, and they could even make out the trees that covered their sides in most quarters. "That dark place ahead must be the coulie opening," Ned suggested. "Just what it is," replied the lanky rider, "You foller it up a ways and all of a sudden-like you drop in on one of the finest little valleys that cattle ever nosed about in, knee-high in grass that ain't the buffalo stripe neither, and with a fine spring that sends its water down the hull place. We ain't got anythin' ekal to it for a harbor for cattle this side o' the Colorado. That's why we turned our prize herd in here, to pick up a little fat before the Kunnel he ships the same off to a show." That was quite a long talk for Chunky to make. He was a man of few words as a rule and bit his sentences off as though it pained him to run on for any great length of time. Ned understood. And he was glad that he had come with the man who was now temporarily in charge of Double Cross Ranch. Where Chunky happened to be things were more apt to take place than elsewhere.