“I never hide ’long no trails,” the taller man drawled, as he seated himself on the rocky mound which was the roof of the little cave. “I telled yer that, pardner. I ony use trails ter foller others. Long’s I can’t fly I have ter make prints, but yer seen how I started. Prints is no use till yer find ’em. But ready-made trails ’n sech like I never use—got no use fer ’em. Nobody ever tracked me; same’s I never failed ter track any one I set out ter track. When yer see me a-follerin’ a reg’lar trail yer’ll know I’m pursuin’, not pursued, as the feller says. Matter, pardner? Yer sceered?” “A dog could track us all right,” said the other. “He could scent us along the rails, couldn’t he? Walkin’ the rails for a mile might kid the bulls all right, but not no dog.” “Nobody never catched me, pardner, an’ nobody never got away from me,” drawled the other man grimly. “They put dogs on, don’t they?” the smaller man asked. He seemed unable to remove this peril from his mind. “Yere, an’ they take ’em off again.” “Well, I guess you know,” the smaller man doubtingly conceded. “I reckon I do,” drawled the other. “I ain’t scared o’ nobody gettin’ up here,” said the one who was evidently a pupil and novice at the sort of enterprise they had been engaged in. “But you said about dogs; sheriff’s posse has dogs, yer says.” “They sure do,” drawled the other, lighting a pipe, “an’ they knows more’n the sheriffs, them hound dogs.” “Well, yer didn’ cut the scent, did yer? Yer says ’bout cuttin’ scents, but yer didn’ do it, now did yer?” For a few moments the master disdained to answer, only smoked his pipe as Westy could just make out through the leaves. The familiar odor of tobacco ascended and reached him, diluted in the evening air. It was only an infrequent faint whiff, but it had an odd effect on Westy; it seemed out of keeping with the surroundings. “I walked the rail,” said the smoker very slowly and deliberately, “till I come ter whar a wolf crossed the tracks. You must have seed me stoop an’ look at a bush, didn’t yer? Or ain’t yer got no eyes?” “I got eyes all right.” “Didn’t yer see me kinder studyin’ sumthin’? That was three four gray hairs. Then I left the rail ’n cut up through this way. It’s that thar wolf’s got ter worry, not me ’n you.” “Well, we done a pretty neat job, I’ll tell ’em,” said the smaller man, apparently relieved. “Well, I reckon I knowed what I was sayin’ when I telled yer it was easy; jes’ like doin’ sums, that’s all; as easy as divvyin’ up this here swag. Ten men that’s a-sceered ain’t as strong as one man that ain’t a-sceered. All yer gotter do is git ’em rattled. Ony yer gotter know yer way when it’s over.” “Yer know yer way all right,” said the other, with a note of tribute in his voice.