"Till they began to discover nothin’ much goes on round here lessen _Don_ Cazar has a finger in th’ pot. An’ they had to swaller a lotta them hot an’ hasty words—stuck heavy in quite a few craws, I reckon." Fenner grinned. "Only, th’ _Don_, he’s got agin him now a big list of little men who’d like to be big chiefs. Every once in a while they gits together an’ makes war talk. Never quite got up guts ’nough to paint their faces an’ hit th’ trail, not yet. But did somebody like Bayliss look like he was beginnin’ to make things move, then he’d have a lotta willin’ hands to help him shove. Up to now Johnny’s been their best bet at gittin’ th’ Range into trouble." Drew turned his head to look Fenner in the eye. "Now you think we are!" He did not know why he uttered that as a challenge; the words just came out that way. "Not any more’n any of us wot can be drawed into a fight in town. You keep away from Bayliss. He can’t come huntin’ you without tippin’ his hand so wide he’d never be able to play agin. Hey, here comes somebody poundin’ leather so hard he’s gonna beat it right intuh th’ ground!" Fenner pulled up Tar, flung up his hand to signal the wagons to a halt. Dust rolled in a cloud with two or three riders at its center. They were pushing the pace all right. Drew jerked his carbine from its saddle boot, saw Anse beat him to that action by a scant second or two. But the newcomers were already drawing rein, bringing their foam-lathered horses to a pawing stop. A buckskin-clad man mounted on a powerful grulla gelding faced Fenner, his whole tense body and snapping eyes backing the demand he made: "Where’s Johnny?" "Back at town, Rennie, at Doc’s. He ain’t bad. Got him a head crease wot knocked him silly for a bit. Doc says a day o’ two in bed and then he kin come home." "How did it happen?" That second question was as sharp as the first. "Nobody’s got it straight outta him yet. Army patrol picked him up on th’ road close to town—looked like he’d been footin’ it quite a spell. An’ by that time he didn’t know wot he was doin’. Nye got him to Doc’s an’ they put him to bed. He ain’t said much, ’cept Kitchell jumped him down Long Canyon way——" "Kitchell!" Hunt Rennie repeated the name and nodded. "But ... Long Canyon ..." There was a shade of puzzlement in his voice. "All right, carry on, Crow. I’ll try to get back to the Stronghold before you pull south—if Johnny’s all right. Maybe I can bring him back with me." The grulla made what was close to a standing leap into a gallop and Rennie flashed along the line of wagons in the opposite direction toward Tubacca. Fenner signaled once more and the train began the slower trip southward.