Their way led through an excellent grass country. The comparatively low ground surrounding Wayback rose gradually to Twin River and more rapidly after leaving that town. The undulating ground now formed in higher and more extensive mounds, rising in places to respectable-sized hills; usually the sides reached in long slopes the intervening depressions, but not infrequently they were abrupt and occasionally one was met which presented the broad, flat face of a bluff. The air was perceptibly colder but the bunch grass, hiding its wonderfully nourishing qualities under the hue it had acquired from the hot summer sun, was capable of fattening more cattle to the acre than any but the best lands of the Texan ranges with which Buck was familiar. Snow had not yet swept down over the country, though apt to come with a rush at any time. Even winter affected the range but little as a general rule; disastrous years were luckily few and far separated, so that the average of loss from severity of weather was small. The talk of the two naturally veered to this and kindred topics and Buck began stowing away nuggets of northern range wisdom as they fell from the lips of the more experienced Ned. Studying the trail ahead of him, Buck broke the first silence by asking: "Ain’t we near the boundary of the Double Y?" "You ’ll know, soon enough. Th’ first big butte we come to, some cuss ’ll be settin’ there, hatchin’ out trouble." "That’s him, then," and Buck pointed to the right where a solitary horseman showed dark against the sky-line. "Yep, that’s one of ’em. Reglar garjun, ain’t he?" "Beats me how you let ’em stand you off, Ned," wondered Buck. "Well, when we made good and sure you owned the range, Buck, there were n’t no use in fighting. That McAllister would ’a run in th’ reglar army next, d—d if he would n’t." Buck chuckled. "He ’s sure a hard man to beat. I don’t mind fighting when I have to, but I ’m mighty glad it looks peaceful." "We ’ll have fightin’. When I was turned off my ranch, it just about foundered me. I sold th’ stock, every head, an’ you saw where th’ last o’ th’ cash went. But don’t forget Smiler Schatz. He ’s a bigger man an’ a better man nor I ever was, an’ he ’s a-layin’ low an’ a-waitin’. He calculates to get you—I dunno how." "An’ I dunno how," mused Buck. "Say, Ned, I thought th’ stage line ran through to Big Moose: there ain’t no tracks?" "’Cause it crosses th’ ford at th’ Jack an’ goes to th’ Fort; then it swings round to Big Moose, an’ back th’ same road. Wonder who ’s that pointin’ this way?" Buck glanced ahead to see a moving speck disappear behind a knoll far along the trail. "Dunno; maybe another deputy," he suggested. The distant rider came into sight again and Ned stared steadily at him. "No," he declared, "think I know that figger. Yessir! It’s Smiler. I kin tell him ’most as far as I kin see him." "That’s the feller gave us the fight, ain’t it?"