Pushing further north, grass and sage gradually disappeared, their place being taken by sand, cactus, and mesquite. Presently they pulled up on the edge of a desolate welter of grey-white dust, the undulations of which, in the shimmering heat-haze, seemed to move like the surface of a troubled sea. To the far horizon it reached, dead, menacing, pitiless.
"She's thirty miles acrost, they say, an' me, I'm believin' it," Yago said in answer to a question. "Sandover is on the other side, but I ain't been there; I don't likedeserts nohow. Cripes! Makes me thirsty to look at her." His eyes followed those of the foreman to where the skeleton of a steer gleamed white in the sunshine. "No, we don't lose many thataway--the critters stay with the feed," he offered. "Went loco, mebbe."
They rode along the edge of the desert, heading east, and sighted a log shack with a sodded roof.
"Our line-house," Yago stated. "Wonder if Strip Levens is to home? Yu ain't seen him yet."
In answer to his hail, a long, lanky cowboy emerged from the shack, hand on gun, his narrowed, humorous eyes squinting at them from beneath the brim of his big hat.
"'Lo, Bill," he greeted. "Come to take over?--if so, you're damn welcome."
"We aim to feed with yu, Strip," Yago informed him, and waved in the direction of his companion. "This is Jim Green, our new foreman."
"Glad to meetcha," Strip smiled, and retired to make additions to the meal he was already preparing.
"He's a good fella, but he don't like this job; none of us does," Yago explained. "We takes her in turn, three-day spells; it's damn lonesome."
"What's the idea of a line-house out here?"
"We was losin' cows, an' Purdie figured Greasers from Sandover was snakin' 'em across the desert."
The appointments of the shack were primitive. A packing-case served as a table, and up-ended boxes, which had contained "air-tights," provided the seats. Two bunks, a stove, and shelves for stores of food and ammunition comprised the rest of the furniture. The fried bacon, biscuits, and coffee occupied the attention of all three men for a time, and then Yago asked a question.
"Anythin' new, Strip?"
"That there ventilation in my lid weren't there night before last," the cowboy replied, pointing to the Stetson he had pitched on one of the bunks.
The visitors examined the two bullet-holes through the crown of the hat; obviously the wearer had escaped death by a bare inch.
"How come?" Bill inquired.
"Yestiddy afternoon I was siftin' through Split-ear Gulch when some jigger cut down on me from the rim. The brush is pretty thick up there, yu know, an' all I could see was the smoke."
"Yu didn't stay to argue, I betcha."
"I'm here, ain't I?" was the grinned retort. "No, sir, when Mister man with the gun is all hid up an' yo're in the open is one time to find out if you're hoss has any speed. I did, an' he had, or yu'd 'a' cooked yore own eats."
"This is a two-man job," the foreman decided. "S'pose Levens had been crippled, we wouldn't 'a' knowed till his relief came out."
Leaving Strip greatly cheered by the prospects of a fellow-sufferer, the other two continued their journey. A few miles brought them to the brink of a winding chasm, a mighty crack in the earth's crust, which stretched left and right for miles. Less than a hundred yards in width, the bare, precipitous walls dropped steeply down to the stony floor beneath. Gazing into the shadowy depths, the foreman put a query.
"Dark Canyon--there's places where she's mighty gloomersome even in daylight," Yago told him. "Makes a good eastern boundary till the range drops down into the valley. The other side is Slype's land."
"What sort o' place has he got?"
"Pretty triflin'--on'y runs a few hundred head. Ramon an' his two Greasers must have an easy time."
At Sudden's suggestion they made their way to Split-ear Gulch and, after a painstaking search, found the spotwhere the bush-whacker had lain in wait for Strip. In the flattened, broken grass lay a spent cartridge--a .38. Not far away were the prints of a standing horse, and the surrounding bushes had been nibbled; a few hairs adhering to one of the branches afforded further evidence.
"Paint pony, nail missin' from the off fore, tied here a considerable spell," the foreman decided. "What sort o' hoss does Luce Burdette usually ride?"
"A grey an' he's a good 'un," Yago replied. "Yu don't think...?"
"Why not? It ain't so difficult," his friend grinned. "Yu oughta try it, Bill. After a bit o' practice."
Yago's reply was a short but pungent description of his new foreman, who laughed as he listened.
"Yore cussin' ain't improved any," he commented. "Yu repeated yoreself twice; yu gotta watch that, Bill. What say we call it a day?"
Yago agreed, and they headed for the ranch.
Chapter VII
WHEN Yago parted from his foreman at the corral he approached the bunkhouse with slowing steps. He knew perfectly well that the outfit would ride him unmercifully and that the only excuse he had to offer would be received with jeers. That there would be no malice in the proceedings helped a little, but Bill was conscious that he had made a fool of himself, and did not welcome the prospect of having it rubbed in, even good-humouredly. Most of the boys were there when he entered. For a moment silence reigned, and then Curly spoke :
"Bill, I'm right sorry; I've looked everyhere an' can't find it?""
"Can't find what, yu chump?" Yago incautiously asked.
"That nerve yu lost when yu saw the new foreman," came the swift answer.
"Aw, Bill didn't lose no nerve--he's kind-hearted, an' saw the foreman was young an'--Green," sniggered another.
"That warn't it neither," Lanty Brown chimed in. "Ain't yu never heard o' the power o' the human eye? Yu fix yore optic on a savage beast an' it stops dead in its tracks. That's what the foreman done."
"I've heard o' the power of the human foot on a silly jackass," the badgered man retorted. "If yu gotta know, I recognized Jim Green as an old friend."
As he had known, a yell of derisive laughter greeted the explanation.
"I knowed it was that," remarked a quiet, unsmiling youth, who, being named "Sankey," was known as "Moody" wherever he went. "Lemme tell yu the sad story. Long, long ago, Bill loved the foreman's mother--this, o' course, was before she was his mother--an' they were to be married. But, alas! Along comes a real good-lookin' fella, an' Bill lost out. So when he sees the boy whose daddy he oughta been..."
A storm of merriment cut the narration short, and in the midst of it Curly's voice made itself heard : "Yu got it near right, Moody, but it was the foreman's gran'mother Bill loved."
The improvement met with vociferous approbation, and when the uproar had subsided a little, Bill managed to get a word in.
"Yo're a cheerful lot o' locoed pups," he said. "Just bite on this--the foreman has made me segundo, an' if yu don't watch yore steps I'll shake shinin' hell outa yu."
The grin on his weathered features belied the threat, and with one accord they fell upon him. Under this human avalanche Bill disappeared, and furniture flew in all directions as members of the struggling mass sought for a bit of him to pat. "Hi, that's my ear yo're pulling off," came faintly from the depths of the heaving heap of profanity, and then, "Take yore blame' foot outa my mouth, yu mule," from another sufferer. "Don't yu go chawin' it--I ain't no dawg-food," panted the owner, striving desperately to recover limbs which appeared to have left him. In the height of the confusion the new foreman entered unobserved.
"Seen anythin' o' Yago?" he asked quietly, and then, as the tangled mass disintegrated into units again, permitting the breathless, dishevelled victim to emerge, he added softly, "An' a good time was had by all. Why for the celebration?"
"We was just congratulatin' Bill," Curly explained.