"Shootin', fer further orders, and driftin' their sheep. They's about a hundred thousand, right over the hill." "Huh!" grunted Creede, turning to his belated dinner, "what d'ye make of that, Rufe?" "Nothing," replied Hardy, "except more work." It seemed as if he had hardly fallen asleep when Creede was up again, hurling the wood on the fire. "Pile out, fellers!" he shouted. "You can sleep all day bimebye. Come on, Rufe--d'ye want to find them sheep in the corral when you go back to Hidden Water?" And so with relentless energy he roused them up, divided out the work, and was off again for Bronco Mesa. It was early when they arrived at the first deserted sheep camp, but search as they would they could see no signs of the sheep. The puny fire over which the herders had fried their bread and mutton was wind-blown and cold, the burros and camp rustlers were gone, and there was no guiding dust cloud against the sky. From the little butte where Creede and Hardy stood the lower mesa stretched away before them like a rocky, cactus-covered plain, the countless ravines and gulches hidden by the dead level of the benches, and all empty, lifeless, void. They rode for the second camp, farther to the west, and it too was deserted, the sheep tracks cunningly milled in order to hide the trail. "They're gittin' foxy," commented Creede, circling wide to catch the trend of their departure, "but I bet you money no bunch of Chihuahua Greasers can hide twenty thousand sheep in my back yard and me not know it. And I'll bet you further that I can find every one of them sheep and have 'em movin' before twelve o'clock, noon." Having crystallized his convictions into this sporting proposition the _rodeo_ boss left the wilderness of tracks and headed due south, riding fast until he was clear of sheep signs. "Now here's where I cut all seven trails," he remarked to his partner. "I happen to know where this sheep outfit is headin' for." With which enigmatic remark he jerked a thumb toward Hidden Water and circled to the west and north. Not half an hour later he picked up a fresh trail, a broad path stamped hard by thousands of feet, and spurring recklessly along it until he sighted the herd he plunged helter-skelter into their midst, where they were packed like sardines in the broad pocket of a dry wash.