The men, tired, dusty, and hungry, swarmed into one of the bunkhouses immediately after they had turned their horses into the corral and cared for their saddles. The men were in good spirits, despite their long ride; and for half an hour after they descended upon the bunkhouse the air pulsed with their talk and their laughter, as they washed their dust-stained faces from the tin washbasin on the bench outside the door, and combed their hair with a comb attached to a rawhide thong that swung from the wall above the basin. They had been informed by Red Linton regarding the situation that had developed at the Rancho Seco--fully informed before they had begun their trip westward--Linton scrupulously and faithfully presenting to them the dangers that confronted them. And though some of them were still curious, and sought a word with Harlan in confirmation, they seemed to be satisfied to trust to Harlan's judgment. Their faith was of the kind that needs but little verbal reassurance. That they admired the man who had sent for them there was little doubt; for they watched him with glowing eyes as he talked with them, revealing their pride that they had been selected. Hardy, clear-eyed, serenely unafraid, they instantly adapted themselves to the new "job," and before their first meal was finished they were thoroughly at home. Shortly afterward--while the men were lounging about inside--Harlan drew Linton outside. "That's the bunch I would have picked if I had gone myself," complimented Harlan. "I'm thankin' you a heap." He whispered to Linton the story of Haydon's last visit and for the first time Linton heard about the section of chain which convicted Haydon of the murder of Lane Morgan. Linton's eyes gleamed. "I've always sort of suspected the son-of-a-gun!" he declared. "An' him makin' love to Barbara! The sneakin' coyote! An' so you're goin' to see him? I'd be a whole lot careful." Harlan's smile was grave. "I'm reckonin' to be. I'd have gone before this, but I was waitin' for you boys. Nobody is sayin' anything to anybody. You're stickin' close to the Rancho Seco, not lettin' Barbara out of your sight. That's what I wanted you an' the other guys for. I'm playin' the rest of it a lone hand." Leaving Linton standing near the bunkhouse, he went to the stable, where he threw saddle and bridle on Purgatory. Then he mounted, waved a hand at Linton, who was watching him, and rode to the ranchhouse. At the northwest corner--around which Haydon had ridden on the occasion of his last visit--he brought Purgatory to a halt, for he saw Barbara just emerging from the _patio_ gate. She halted in the opening when she observed him; making a picture that was vivid in his memory for many days afterward--for her eyes were alight with wonder, her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing fast.