Oldring
and his rustlers live somewhere down there."
"Well, what of that?"
"Tull has already hinted to your frequent trips into Deception
Pass."
"I know." Venters uttered a short laugh. "He'll make a rustler of
me next. But, Jane, there's no water for fifty miles after I
leave here, and the nearest is in the canyon. I must drink and
water my horse. There! I see more riders. They are going out."
"The red herd is on the slope, toward the Pass."
Twilight was fast falling. A group of horsemen crossed the dark
line of low ground to become more distinct as they climbed the
slope. The silence broke to a clear call from an incoming rider,
and, almost like the peal of a hunting-horn, floated back the
answer. The outgoing riders moved swiftly, came sharply into
sight as they topped a ridge to show wild and black above the
horizon, and then passed down, dimming into the purple of the
sage.
"I hope they don't meet Lassiter," said Jane.
"So do I," replied Venters. "By this time the riders of the night
shift know what happened to-day. But Lassiter will likely keep
out of their way."
"Bern, who is Lassiter? He's only a name to me--a terrible name."
"Who is he? I don't know, Jane. Nobody I ever met knows him. He
talks a little like a Texan, like Milly Erne. Did you note that?"
"Yes. How strange of him to know of her! And she lived here ten
years and has been dead two.
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