Presently the hunter and his friend returned from hobbling the horses, and beside the fire they conversed in low tones.
"Wal, thet trail we made to-day will be hid, I reckon," said Roy, with satisfaction.
"What wasn't sheeped over would be washed out. We've had luck. An' now I ain't worryin'," returned Dale.
"Worryin'? Then it's the first I ever knowed you to do."
"Man, I never had a job like this," protested the hunter.
"Wal, thet's so."
"Now, Roy, when old Al Auchincloss finds out about this deal, as he's bound to when you or the boys get back to Pine, he's goin' to roar."
"Do you reckon folks will side with him against Beasley?"
"Some of them. But Al, like as not, will tell folks to go where it's hot. He'll bunch his men an' strike for the mountains to find his nieces."
"Wal, all you've got to do is to keep the girls hid till I can guide him up to your camp. Or, failin' thet, till you can slip the girls down to Pine."
"No one but you an' your brothers ever seen my senaca. But it could be found easy enough."
"Anson might blunder on it. But thet ain't likely."
"Why ain't it?"
"Because I'll stick to thet sheep-thief's tracks like a wolf after a bleedin' deer. An' if he ever gets near your camp I'll ride in ahead of him."
"Good!" declared Dale. "I was calculatin' you'd go down to Pine, sooner or later."
"Not unless Anson goes. I told John thet in case there was no fight on the stage to make a bee-line back to Pine. He was to tell Al an' offer his services along with Joe an' Hal."
"One way or another, then, there's bound to be blood spilled over this."
"Shore! An' high time. I jest hope I get a look down my old 'forty-four' at thet Beasley."
"In that case I hope you hold straighter than times I've seen you."
"Milt Dale, I'm a good shot," declared Roy, stoutly.
"You're no good on movin' targets."
"Wal, mebbe so. But I'm not lookin' for a movin' target when I meet up with Beasley. I'm a hossman, not a hunter. You're used to shootin' flies off deer's horns, jest for practice."
"Roy, can we make my camp by to-morrow night?" queried Dale, more seriously.