“My laig sure is hurting like sixty. I’m going home. Wish one of you lads would run up a hawss for me. Get the roan with the white stockings, if you can.” “I’ll go with you, Sam,” announced Rogers. “I’m expecting an important business letter and I expect it’s waiting at the house for me. Be with you to-morrow, boys.” After they had gone Falkner made comment to young King satirically: “What with busted laigs and important letters and night drives, we’re having quite an exodus from camp, wouldn’t you say?” “Looks like,” agreed King. “Tha’s the way with married men. They got always to be recollectin’ home ties. We been on this round-up quite a spell, an’ I reckon they got kinda homesick to see their better halfs, as you might say.” “Tha’s yore notion, is it?” jeered Falkner. “Why, yes, you see——” “Different here. They got a hen on. Tha’s what’s the matter with them.” “Whajamean, a hen on?” King leaned forward, eyes sparkling, cigarette half rolled. If there was anything doing he wanted to know all about it. “Larry let it out to me at supper. He was so full of it he couldn’t hold it in. Tait has done crossed the dead line again.” “No?” The word was a question, not a denial. Young King’s eyes were wide with excitement. This was not merely diverting news. It might turn out to be explosive drama. “I’m tellin’ you, boy.” Falkner rapped out an annoyed impatient oath. “They left me out of it. Why? I got as good a right to know what’s doing as any of ’em. More, by God! I’ve still got to settle with Joe Tait for these, an’ I aim to pay him interest aplenty.” He touched the scars on his face, and his eyes flamed to savage anger. “What do you reckon Mac aims to do?” asked King. “I reckon he means to raid Tait’s herd. Can’t be anything else. But I mean to find out. Right now I’m declarin’ myself in.” The campfire circle broke up, and the cow-punchers rolled into their blankets. Falkner did not stay in his long. He slipped out to the remuda and slapped a saddle on one of his cow ponies. The explanation he gave to the night herders was that he was going to ride down to Bovier’s Camp to get some tobacco. He struck the trail of McCoy’s bunch of cows and followed across the hills. Falkner rode fast, since he knew the general direction the driver must take. Within the hour he heard the lowing of cattle, and felt sure that he was on the heels of those he followed. From the top of the next ridge he looked down upon them in the valley below. This was enough for Falkner. Evidently Rowan intended to get the cattle to his corral before any move was made against Tait. The range rider swung to the right across the brow of the hill, dipped into the next valley, struck a trail that zigzagged up the shale slope opposite, and by means of it came, after a half hour of stiff riding, to the valley where the Triangle Dot Ranch had its headquarters.