“Your outfit’s pretty well loaded with men,” Slim said.
“The Box B would be if they could keep their hands on,” grinned Al, “but after those two cattle detectives were killed and a couple of the other boys got winged, a bunch of them blew out of the country.”
“The present outfit won’t blow,” said Slim.
“I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t count too much on Doug Huston. He looks like a weak sister to me.”
It was nearly noon when they reached the Diamond Dot, which lay north and well to the east of the Box B although almost directly east of the Double O.
Water on the Diamond Dot was not as plentiful as on the neighboring ranches and the grass was thinner. The buildings, almost under the Cajons, were in a poor state of repair and the corral was a ramshackled affair. Two cowboys in front of the bunkhouse looked up as the riders approached and four more men appeared to watch the visitors. On the porch of the ranch house a man pulled himself out of an old rocking chair. He was in his stocking feet and had been dozing and smoking his pipe at intervals.
“That’s Hack Cook on the porch,” said Al. “He’s a tough customer and I’ve got a hunch we won’t get any cooperation from him.”
Slim looked at the owner of the Diamond Dot. Hack Cook was almost square. His shoulders were tremendously broad and his chest was like a barrel. His face was red and his neck so short that it disappeared into his body.
“Hello, Hack,” rumbled Nels as the riders stopped in front of the porch.
“Howdy,” replied Hack, but he gave no hint that he intended to ask them to dismount and have dinner at the ranch. “What’s on your mind?”
“Plenty,” said Nels. “It’s about the rustlers. The Double O and the Box B are joining forces.”
Hack’s face reddened and his voice trembled. “Joining forces? It’s about time you big outfits did that. Now you’ll try to ruin me altogether. You haven’t been able to do it singly so you’re doubling up on me. Well, I’m serving notice on you right now that I’ve got fighting men on my payroll and we’re going to fight to the end.”
“Why you crazy fool,” broke in Joe Haines, “we’re not looking for trouble. We’re offering you a chance to join us and run the rustlers out of the valley. You claim you’ve been losing stock. Here’s your chance to prove it by throwing in with us. We’re going to give this valley the once-over with a fine-toothed comb.”