The two gravitated together without a word or look that signified intention and strolled silently out away from the house to a bowlder fallen from the crown of the bluff and lying solitary and conveniently out of earshot yet within sight of everything. Even in Lark's tempestuous youth the bowlder had been called the Council Rock because of its frequent occupation when confidences were to be exchanged. A faint trail led toward it through the sparse grass at the base of the bluff, proof that it was still popular. Bud climbed up to the broad, flat top and sat down, dangling his legs over the edge of the gray rock while he produced tobacco and papers. "That check--Lark, I feel that I owe you fifteen hundred dollars," he began abruptly. "I was so darned thirsty and hot when I came down off the reservation that I didn't go straight to the bank as I should have done. I stopped at the Elkhorn for a glass of beer. Lightfoot was in there and let himself be bullied into dancing for Steve Godfrey's bunch of souses, and I played the mouth-harp for him. I guess I wasted nearly half an hour altogether before I started to the bank. At that," he added, pausing to run the tip of his tongue along the edge of the filled paper, "I was in time--or I would have been if the bank had been left alone. But if I had gone there at first I'd have been in time to prevent a murder and cash your check." "Damn' expensive beer the Elkhorn's sellin'," Lark commented dryly. "What about the Fryin' Pan?" "They've sure got a lot of dandy horses, Lark," Bud told him, relieved at the change of subject. "I had to do a lot of jewing on the price, but I got the promise of a hundred head for fifteen hundred dollars; forty young mares, and the rest geldings two and three years old. Just right to break, most of them are. You might be able to stand Kid off for the money, seeing the bank was robbed, but I don't know. I told him it would be cash down. Kid said he never bothered with checks at all--you had the right hunch there. He hinted strongly for gold too. Said he'd burned a thousand dollars of paper money by accident once, and he's nervous about having it around." "Yeah, I wouldn't be su'prised if he is!" Lark laughed to himself. "My Jonah, I shore do want that bunch of horses! You say the bank's put out of business?" "That's what Delkin said. They may get organized again after a while--or they may get the money back, of course. I'd have wondered if the Frying Pan didn't know something about that affair--" He stopped and emptied his lungs of smoke. "But I saw the whole outfit at the ranch. Butch Cassidy's working for them this summer. I wish we could get those horses some way. They promised to hold the bunch close in, because I told them you'd be right over. I expect they're watching the trail for us right now."