As the two riders drew nearer he recognized them by their ensemble, and by the way they sat their saddles, and it was not long before he could make out details. They were riding hard, both keenly alert, peering along the trail ahead of them. Nearer and nearer they came, pushing ahead at a fast, hard pace, eager to overtake him before he reached the town. Sweeping past the steep bank, they shot around a bend and went on. Big Tom watched them until they had passed from sight, and then arose and nodded. "It's a good thing for you that you missed me!" he growled. "I hate to lose th' pay-roll money; but what's got to be done has got to be done. My interest in Sherman has plumb faded. Now for a smash at Nelson that'll hurt him to his dyin' day, d--n him!" * * * * * Darkness had fallen on the range and the night riders of the west section of the Double X were Slim Hawkes, Tom Wilkes, and Cimarron, who had the first shift. They were back on the old three-shift plan and would be off duty at half-past eleven. Cimarron had ridden south and had reached the end of his beat, the north side of a shallow arroyo. He softly gave the night's signal and, receiving no reply, decided to wait for a while, for Slim was due to reach and stop at the other side of the arroyo at any minute. He could faintly discern the outlines of objects at quite a respectable distance and wondered how soon the moon would break through the filmy clouds. Suddenly he listened closely and thought he detected the noise made by a herd. Slime's signal came faintly to him and he replied to it with a double one. In a few minutes Slim loomed up out of the dark. "Are you hearin' that, too?" asked Slim in a whisper. "I am," replied Cimarron. "That's a herd, an' there's work for me an' you. It's comin' up from th' south, bearin' a little west, I reckon. How do you figger it?" "West, bearin' a little north," answered Slim. "But it's shore comin' _from_ our range, which is enough for us. I'm askin' no questions tonight. Th' last time I sung out Nevada shot me up. I'm doin' my talkin' tonight with my gun. An' I'm hopin' it's Nevada, personal: I _owe_ him somethin'." "Don't separate, or we'll mebby shoot each other," growled Cimarron. "If we hit 'em from this side we'll mebby turn th' herd so it'll stampede back where it belongs; an' if it does, th' fellers on th' other side will have plenty to do for a couple of minutes, an' give us a chance to get to 'em. It's closer. Are you ready?"