The other did not notice this remark, but throwing the bundle aside, he rose up and went back to the tree. "By the beardy Moses! Look thar!" and the man looked about as if half frightened, and then held up a bottle. "Whisky?" asked the other, springing eagerly forward. "No," answered the man, contemptuously, after smelling the bottle. "Water, eh?" queried the other, with disgust. "Wine! And look here. Do you know what that means? It means a white man! Yes, it does. No Injin ever left a cork in a bottle. Now, you look sharp. There will be a white man to tackle." "Wal, I guess he won't be much of a white man, or he'd have whisky." "Shoo! I heard a bird fly down the canyon. Somebody's a comin' up thar." "We better git, eh?" said the other, getting his gun; "lay for 'em." "Lay low and watch our chance. Maybe we'll come in on 'em friendly like, if there's white men. We're cattle men, you know; men hunting cattle," says the other, getting his gun and leading off behind the crags in the rear. "Leave me to do the talking. I'll tell a thing, and you'll swear to it. Wait, let's see," and he approaches the edge of the rocks, and, leaning over, looked below. "See 'em?" "Shoo! Look down there. The gal! She's a fawn. She's as pretty as a tiger-lily. Ah, my beauty!" The other man stood up, shook his head thoughtfully, and seemed to hesitate. The watcher still kept peering down; then he turned and said: "The white man is old Forty-nine. He comes a bobbin' and a limpin' along with a keg on his back, and a climbin' up the mountain sidewise, like a crab." "Whoop! I have it. It's wine, and they'll get drunk. Forty-nine will get drunk, don't you see, and then?" "You're a wise 'un! Shake!" And they grasped hands. "You bet! Now this is the little game. The gal and Logan, and the boy, will get here long first. Well, now, maybe we will go for the gal and the boy. But if we don't, we just lay low till all get sot down, and at that keg the old man's got, and then we just come in. Cattle-men, back in the mountains, eh?" "That's the game. But here they come! Shoo!" and with his finger to his lip the leader stole behind the rocks, both looking back over their shoulders, as Carrie entered the camp. Her pretty face was flushed from exertion, and brown as a berry where not protected by the shock of black hair. She swung a broad straw hat in her hand, and tossed her head as if she had never worn and never would wear any other covering for it than that so bountifully supplied by nature. She danced gaily, and swung her hat as she flew about the little camp, and called at her chubby cherub of a brother over her shoulder. At last, puffing and blowing, and wiping his forehead, he entered camp and threw himself on one of the rocks. "Why, you ain't tired, are you Johnny?" "Oh, oh, oh,--no, I--I--I ain't tired a bit!" and he wiped his brow, and puffed and blowed, in spite of all his efforts to restrain himself.