"That's your way to the left, gentlemen. Take your time, now. I'm in no hurry and you needn't be, and our horses are all tired from their run. And you want to be most mighty sure you keep on going. For the next half hour nobody's going to know what I'm doing but me and God--and we won't tell." Caney turned off to the right. Fifteen minutes later he met Adam Forbes in a tangle of red hills by the head of Redgate. "Hi, Adam! We got 'em!" he hailed jubilantly. "Caught 'em with the goods. Two men and five saddles. Both Mexicans." "They must have given you one hell of a chase, judging from your horse." "They did. We spied 'em jest over the divide at the head of Deadman. There wasn't any chance to head 'em off. We woulda tagged along out of sight, but they saw us first. They dropped their lead horses and pulled out--but we got close enough to begin foggin' lead at 'em in a straight piece of cañon, and they laid 'em down." "Know 'em?" "Neither one. Old Mexico men, I judge by the talk of 'em. Hales and Jody took 'em on down Deadman--them and the lead horses--while I come back for you." "Me? Whadya want o' me?" "Why, you want to go down to represent for yourself. You know that odd bit of land, grown up to brush, that you bought of Miguel Silva?" "Took it on a bad debt. What of it?" "Why, there's an old tumbledown shack on it, and they've been using that as a store house, tha'sall. By their tell they got eighteen assorted saddles hid there." "Well, I'm damned!" said Adam, turning back. "That's a blame fine howdy-do, ain't it? How long have they been at this lay?" "Four or five months. More'n that south of here. But they just lately been extendin' and branchin' out." "Making new commercial connections, so to speak. Any of the Garfield _gente_ implicated?" "One. Albino Villa Neuva." Adam nodded. "Always thought he was a bad _hombre_, Albino." "They're going to come clean, these two," said Caney cheerfully. "We told 'em if they'd turn state's evidence they'd probable get off light. Reckon we're going to round up the whole gang. Say, I thought you'd hiked on to Garfield. I started back to your little old mine, cut into your sign, and was followin' you up." "Yes, I did start down all right. But I met up with a lad down here a stretch and give him my papers and shackled on back. Damn your saddle thieves, anyway--I sure wanted to go back and paw round that claim of mine. My pack horse is back there hobbled, too." "Aw, nemmine your pack horse. He'll make out till mornin'." Ahead of them the wagon road was gouged into the side of an overhang of promontory, under a saddleback pass to northward. A dim trail curved away toward the pass. Adam's eye followed the trail. Caney's horse fell back a step. "There's where I found my mail carrier," said Adam; "up on top of that little thumb. A Bar Cross waddy, he was--brandin' a calf."