"Yep; one down here, an' t'other up there. Colonel Bowie pushed 'em over th' Divide. Comin' down?"
"I come up myself. Couldn't watch while I slept; an' I had to sleep. Now that there's two of us it's all right."
"You called th' turn. Get yore traps together an' I'll fix th' fire. Where's yore cayuse?"
"Up here. Don't bother with th' fire. Be right down."
Half an hour later Johnny reached the bottom of the trail and paused.
"Come on, Luke. We'll hold up somewhere an' get th' relief shift when it comes out from th' ranch."
"'Bout three miles west; an' it's a cussed fine one, too."
"All right; get movin'. I want to dry out these pants. They must be all cotton from th' way they feel. We'll go back a ways an' start a fire."
"No, we won't; too dangerous," growled Johnny decidedly. "We got this game won right now if we don't let 'em know there's two of us."
Luke grinned in the dark. "Suits me. You wait here a minute," he said, disappearing. When he returned he grunted with keen satisfaction, for Fleming's trousers felt snug and warm. "How many are left?" he asked, leading the way toward his hidden pack.
"Them names don't surprise me," grunted Luke.
"It is, around th' shoulders; but th' tail feels like th' devil. But it's wool, all through."
"Was you trailin' Ackerman an' Long Pete?"
"Nope; didn't trail nobody a-tall. How many cows they got?"
"What you been doin' up here all this time; an' how many have you got?"
"Didn't dare do any shootin' till I had to," replied Johnny. "Didn't want 'em to know I was up here. A gun makes a lot of noise."
Luke chuckled grimly. "Shore! That's what I _allus_ said; an' that's why I use Colonel Bowie. He don't even whisper."
Johnny snorted with disgust. "Huh! I ain't knifin' or shootin' from ambush. There's _some_ things I won't do!"
"Uppish, huh?" chuckled Luke. "Well, young man; mebby ambushin' ain't yore style, but I feels free to remark that it's mine in any game like this. Them pants feel good. That river's gettin' colder every year."
"River!" ejaculated Johnny, pausing in his surprise. "What river?"
"Deepwater, of course. How many rivers do you reckon we got out here?"
"Th' devil!" muttered Johnny. "Say! When did you leave th' ranch?"
"'Bout three o'clock. I'd 'a' been here sooner, only I hoofed it from th' river. Cayuses can't go where a man can; they make a lot of noise, an' a man sticks up too cussed prominent in a saddle. They ain't worth a cuss in this kind of country when trouble's afoot."