The Moose worked steadily enough now, but it seemed a long time to Douglas before he saw the faint glare of a fire through the trees. Charleton and Scott looked up grinning as he rode into the circle of light. Wide bare patches showed on Doug's chaps. One sleeve of his flannel shirt was hanging by a thread. His face was bleeding from many scratches, but he grinned amicably as he slid wearily from the saddle. "Hello, Doug! Is your horse broke yet?" asked Charleton. "Some," replied Douglas. "We thought we heard you a while back!" said Scott. "Sounded as if a grizzly had been bitten by a hydrophobia skunk." "He ain't as nervous as he was," grinned Douglas. "Anything to drink?" Charleton indicated the coffee-pot and said, "It's only a short time to dawn. Better get what sleep you can!" Douglas nodded, drank a tin cup of coffee, and then unsaddled the Moose. Scott, rolled in his blanket, watched him with a twisted grin. "Some horse to take on a trip like this," he said. "A half-broke mule couldn't be worse. Funny if Doug don't gum the whole game for us, Charleton." "You go to hell, Scott!" grunted Douglas. Scott sat up with a jerk. Charleton spoke sharply. "No scrapping! You two get to sleep!" Scott lay down reluctantly. Doug shrugged his broad shoulders, and shortly, head in his saddle, feet to the fire, he was fast asleep. The trees were black against gray light when Charleton called the two young riders. "Let's eat and be off," he said briefly. Breakfast was a short affair of bread, bacon and coffee. While they were bolting it, Charleton outlined the campaign. "You'll see Nelson's cattle have been all through here. No one else grazes hereabouts. Don't rope any cows with calves following 'em. They make too much bellowing. Get what steers you can by mid-morning into the old corral. There isn't one chance in a thousand we'll meet any one. Nelson's making hay five miles below here. But if any one should come along when you've roped a steer, get him to examine the brand for you, and of course if the brand isn't yours, let the critter go." "Where is the old corral from here?" asked Scott. "Show him, Doug," ordered Charleton. The camp had been made just within the tree line below the peak. Above, against the glowing pink of the heavens, was etched the suave line of the peak and topping this a heap of rocks, surmounted by a staff. West of the staff and below it projected the top of a dead spruce on which sat an eagle. To this Douglas pointed. "Down the mountain on a line with the staff and the dead spruce in a thick clump of young aspen, about an acre of it. The old corral is there."