Sinful looked scornfully at his worrying companion and slowly arose. "No day’s journey for me, mules or no mules," he declared, spitting emphatically. "I ain’t shore it would be worth it, considerin’ th’ time an’ th’ trouble; but it’s worth pannin’ right where it is. I’ve jumped claims before in my life an’ I ain’t too old to jump another. When I looked over that bank an’ saw that wallopin’ big rock a-stickin’ up in th’ crick bed, from bank to bank; an’ th’ ditch he’s put down on th’ upstream side, I purty near knew what th’ sand pile would show. I’m bettin’ he’s got _bushels_ of gold at th’ foot of that riffle. If his location don’t run up that far, an’ mebby it don’t, we got somethin’ to keep us busy. An’ if it does, we’ve mebby got more to keep us busy. Come on, you wall-eyed ijut: we got to be gittin’ back to camp. Great Jerus’lam!" The marshal of Windsor, riding slowly toward town south of the railroad track after a long detour to mask his trail, saw two scarecrows bumping along the ties, bobbing up and down jerkily as they tried to stretch their stride to cover two ties and repeatedly fell back to one. They were well to the northeast of him and to his left, but he thought they looked familiar and he pushed more to the south to remain hidden from them while he rode ahead. When he finally had reached a point south of the station he turned and rode toward it, timing his arrival to coincide with theirs. Sinful grinned up at the smiling rider, his missing teeth only making more prominent the few brown fangs he had left. Two dribbles of tobacco juice had dried at each corner of his mouth and reached downward across his chin, giving him an appearance somewhat striking. He mopped the perspiration from his face by a vigorous wipe of his soiled shirt sleeve and lifted each palpitating foot in turn. "Been ridin’ far?" he asked in idle curiosity and in great good humor, considering the aches in his body and the soreness of his feet. "Oh, just around exercisin’ Oh My," answered Tex. "I thought you two was located out on Antelope, west of town?" "We are," replied Hank, ignoring his partner’s furtive elbow. "Been gettin’ sorta tired of it, though, not havin’ nothin’ to do but set around an’ look at th’ same things. Thought we’d take a look at th’ Buffaler, south of th’ track; but it ain’t much better, though there is some water in th’ pools. Anyhow, Antelope’s kinda crowded. We may shift our camp. Jake’s out on Buffaler som’er’s, ain’t he?" Tex nodded and glanced at the can. "Been fishin’?" "If we had enough bait to fill that can we’d ’a’ ate it ourselves," chuckled Hank. "Naw, there ain’t no fish left now," said Sinful. "Hard-luck coffeepot, that’s all it is. Good as anythin’ else, an’ shore plentiful. Punch a hole in each side of it an’ shove in a piece of wire, an’ she’ll cook anythin’ small. Ain’t it hot?"