"We didn't come out here for a drink," replied Nevada. "We came out to help you rustle, which same we'll do. I tell you that you need us, man!" "When I need you I'll send for you. _Adios._" "You ain't going to let us come up?" "Not a little bit. Pull yore stakes an' hit th' back trail. _Adios!_" "Well, we'll hang around to-night an' talk it over again to-morrow. Mebby you'll change yore mind. So long," and the two wheeled and disappeared into the chaparrals, Nevada chuckling. "I didn't spring that little joker, Chet, because it's a good card to play last. When we tell him that we won't let nobody come down off'n th' mesa it'll be after we can't do nothing else. No use making him mad." Up on the mesa Shaw wheeled, scowling. "I knowed that fool would fire off something big! Why can't he get drunk out here, where it's all right?" "That Nevada is a shore bad proposition," Clausen remarked. "So'm I!" snapped Shaw. "He can't come up, an' pursooant to that idee I reckon you an' Hall better arrange to watch th' trail to-night." He walked away and paced slowly along the edge of the wall, studying every yard of it. He had done this thing before and had decided that no man sat a saddle who could scale the sheer hundred feet of rock which dropped so straight below him. But somehow he felt oppressed, and the sinking sun threw into bold relief the furrows of his weather-beaten, leathery face and showed the trouble marks which sat above his eyes. At one part of the wall he stopped and peered over, marshalling imaginative forces in attack after attack against it. But at the end he smiled and moved on--that was the weakest point in his defence, but he would consider himself fortunate if he should find no weaker defence in future conflicts. As he returned to the hut he glanced at the lookout rock and saw Manuel in his characteristic pose, unmoving, silent, watchful. "I'm getting as bad as Cavalry and his desert," he grumbled. "Still, they can't lick us while we stay up here." CHAPTER XXVIII NEVADA JOINS SHAW Late in the forenoon of the day after Nevada had argued with Shaw, Manuel shifted his position on the lookout rock and turned to face the hut. "Señor! Señor Shaw! He ees here." Shaw strode to the edge of the mesa and looked down, seeing Nevada sitting quietly on a horse and looking up at him. Manuel, his duty performed, turned and looked eastward, shrinking back as Shaw stepped close to him. Lying prone along the edge half a dozen men idly fingered rifles as they covered the man below, Antonio's face in particular showing intense aversion to any more recruits. "Morning, Shaw," shouted Nevada. "Going to let us come up?" The leader was about to reply when he felt a tug at his ankle and saw Manuel's lips moving. "What is it, Greaser?" "Look, Señor, look!" whispered the frightened Mexican, pointing eastward. "Eet ees de Bar-20! They be here _poco tiempo_!"