"Gettin' near on th' prod ain't worth nothin'," replied Dahlgren. "It's gettin' on one, a good one, an' stayin' with it, that counts. I figgers we still got a lot of interest in them mavericks, an' I'm dead shore there ain't nobody watchin' 'em this side of th' Double X line." "There's a lot of 'em away south of there," said Carney. "There's a couple of herds hang out closer to th' water hole in West Arroyo. I've seen 'em often when I rode that way. We could round up near three hundred, hold 'em in that blind canyon till evenin', an' then run th' whole bunch over th' Double X southwest corner an' get 'em well away tonight. It's cloudy, an' there won't be much moon showin'--just enough light to see what we're doin', an' not enough to show us up for any distance. Th' four of us can swing that herd in bang-up style--an' Big Tom won't never catch us, once we get into th' Snake Buttes country. An' what's more, I know where unmarked cattle can be sold, with no questions an' at a fair price. Th' game's up for us, down here, anyhow." "You aimin' to let them two in on this?" "I'd ruther let 'em in on it, an' swing more cattle, than have 'em trailin' us tomorrow. An' four ain't too many for drivin' through th' Buttes." "I don't like splittin' 'em four ways," growled Dahlgren, but he grudgingly gave his consent "All right. Go up an' feel 'em out, while I start roundin' up. Don't give nothin' away before you know how they feel about it." "I'm off. They wasn't goin' to ride out till late, an' mebby I'll catch 'em at th' house," and Carney was off like a shot. He was not gone long, and when he returned he spread out his hands expressively. "They've pulled their stakes, I reckon," he reported. "Their blankets an' 'most everythin' they owned, of any account, was gone. My extra gun is missin', an' our stuff is spread all over th' place. I rustled some supplies, an' found they had been there, too. Let 'em go!" "Cussed glad of it; now it's halves, instead of fourths," replied Dahlgren, cheerfully. "Come on; let's push this work. Don't get any more branded cattle than you can help; but we ain't goin' to waste no time cuttin' any out." Up on the Sherman trail Big Tom was swinging along within ten miles of town when, passing a particularly high, abrupt hill, he turned out, rode along it and, dismounting, went up on foot until he could peer across the top of it. He did not have long to wait, for soon two horsemen appeared far back on the trail, where it crossed a wide, open space. Going back to his horse, he led it into a thicket and tied it to a bush, took his rifle and returned to the hill top, where he chose cover close to the bank at the trail's edge, and settled down comfortably to wait.