As he expected, the miner had disappeared, but his trail led down a long incline covered with pine and clumps of undergrowth. Green pressed on, anxious to make up the time he had been forced to waste at the valley. Rounding a tree-covered pinnacle of rock, he suddenly pulled his horse back on its haunches. In front of him, running at right angles, lay a broad open trail, scored with innumerable footprints of horse and cattle. Those of the rider in front could no longer be distinguished. Green swore softly.
`Hell!' he said. `Gotta take a chance now, Blue. But what's a big trail like this a-doin' here?'
The animal's answer was a movement to the left, and his master, who had the superstitions as well as the instincts of a gambler, accepted the hint. Mile after mile they followed the trail, which twisted and turned round hills and gullies in a way that showed foresight on the part of those who had first used it.
`Feller could take a tidy bunch o' cows over this, an' at a good lick,' muttered the cowpuncher.
An hour's hard riding brought him no sight of the man he was tracking. The cattle-trail, moreover, came to an end on the bank of a wide but shallow stream which emerged from the jaws of a dark and narrow canyon. Into this for some distance the trailer penetrated, scanning the banks of the stream carefully, but no trace of horse or cow rewarded him. On either hand the living rock, sparsely clothed with vegetation, rose almost vertically, while straight ahead a blank wall of rock indicated that the canyon was a blind one.
`An' cows ain't got wings,' Green said, adding to his unspoken thought.
He turned back to where the trail ended, crossed the water, and struck out over an expanse of shale-covered ground. It proved to be more than a mile wide, and on the other side of it, he found cattle sign again.
He pressed on, passing now through deep forest, then a stretch of open grassland, while at times the trail dipped into deep, savage gullies, hewn by Nature out of the bare rock and draped with spare vegetation. Emerging from one of these, he saw a bit of rolling prairie, shut in by wooded hills, and on the edge of it some log-buildings and corrals. In the distance were specks which he knew to be cattle.
The place appeared to be deserted, and he was about to shout when a man showed in the doorway. Green noted that he did not seem surprised, and surmised that his approach had been observed. The fellow was powerful-looking, thick-lipped, and wore a black patch over one eye, which imparted a cunning expression to his face. He had a revolver slung at his hip, and the handle of a knife protruded from his boot.
`Afternoon,' Green greeted pleasantly. `I take it this is the Double X.'
`It is,' said the other shortly. `An' I take it yo're the new Y Z feller who got gay with Poker Pete in Hatchett's.'
Green nodded, smiling. `I don't allow tinhorns to run blazers on me,' he returned easily. `Odd how news travels, even out here.'
`I was in town yesterday,' the man explained quickly, and Green chuckled inwardly. `What's brung yu out this far?'
`Well, I've been huntin' strays, an' got the fool notion I was headin' for home, but I reckon I've strayed some m'self,' the cowpuncher explained.
The one-eyed man burst into a coarse laugh. `If yu keep agoin' yu'll have to go all round the world to get to the Y Z,' he guffawed.
`Is that so? Pointin' right away from it, eh?' replied the visitor. `Well, if this ain't the beatenest country; that's twice I done lost m'self in it.'
If the man doubted this somewhat unlikely excuse for the puncher's presence he showed no sign of it. `Get down an'drink,' he invited. `Can't offer yu any grub: we're clean out. The boys are at Hatchett's with the wa.ggin, fetchin' in what I ordered yesterday.'
His one eye watched the visitor closely as he offered this information. Green nodded understandingly, dismounted, and tied his horse, not yet being certain that Blue would stand for a thrown rein. His host eyed the animal covetously.
`Good hoss,' he remarked. `Had him long?'
`No,' replied the cowboy. `He's kind o' new.'
The room they entered was a large one, and had a boarded floor. The furniture consisted mainly of a long table and a number of chairs and benches, mostly decorated with saddles, guns, and odds and ends of camp equipment. Two doors on the far side apparently led to the other parts of the building, which was of one storey only. Through one of these doors Green could hear a peculiarly raucous voice bellowing a cowboy ballad.
`That's my cook--thinks he's a blasted opery singer,' explained the host. `I'll just abate him a bit.' He opened one of the doors and yelled `Hey, Carewso, stop that blamed racket; I got a visitor what's fond o' music.'
The unholy noise died away into a grumble, and the host shut the door with a grin. `The boys call him that. They stand it pretty well, but I reckon they'll abolish him one of these days.'
He produced a bottle and glasses, pouring out generous portions. `Here's how,' he said. `My name's Dexter, an' I own this place.'
Green gave his own name, and then added: `Nice location yu got here, but the country round strikes me as bein' a hard one for cows.'
`Yu said it,' was the reply. `We lose a good few.'
`Rustlers?' queried Green.
The other man spat out an expletive. "Yep, copper-coloured ones from the Reservation just across the range. The damn thieves know all the passes, an' they sneak through, make their gather, an' git back without leavin' a sign yu can swear to.'
`They'd shore be hard to trail about here,' Green said.
`Hard to trail?' cried his host. `I believe yu. Why, the way they vanish sometimes yu'd think the beggers had wings; an' that's somethin' no Injun'll ever wear, in this world or the next. I've give up; but any war-plume what comes prancin' round here is apt to die o' lead-poisonin' mighty sudden.'
`I never had no use for Injuns,' Green agreed.
He declined a second drink on the ground that he must get back to the Y Z before dark, and asked the nearest way. He was not surprised when Dexter advised an entirely different route from the one which had brought him there.
`Straight across the valley an' through that notch in the rim'll bring yu to a plain trail to Hatchett's. If yu meet my boys tell 'em I'm a-gettin' hungrier every minit. So long! Drop in any time yo're passin'.'
The visitor returned the salutation and, mounting his horse, rode across the valley as directed. The non-appearance of the miner puzzled him, though he inclined to the belief that Nugget was there, keeping out of sight. The owner of the Double X had not impressed him favourably, but he had discovered nothing to connect him with the rustlers except the repetition of the redskin theory, and it was conceivable that the man might be losing stock and blaming the Indians for it.
In crossing the valley he purposely passed near one of the groups of feeding cattle. He did not slow up, for that would have aroused suspicion, but he got close enough to get a good look at the brand, a crude double X, roughly done, but apparently honest enough. Nevertheless, it provided him with food for thought. He reached the notch in the rim, climbed up a narrow stony pathway out of the walley, and found, as his host had promised, a plain trail. He had covered some miles of this when he heard singing, and presently round a bend came a lumbering wagon, with one man driving and three others riding beside it. The driver pulled up with an oath when he saw the puncher, and the right hands of the riders slid to their holsters.