He began his day with the dawn when he threw off the frost-coated tarpaulin; the icy water brought him a glow of exhilaration; he drank in the spiced cold air, and there was the spring of the deer-hunter in his step as he went down the slope for his horse.  He no longer feared that Silvermane would run away.  The gray’s bell could always be heard near camp in the mornings, and when Hare whistled there came always the answering thump of hobbled feet.  When Silvermane saw him striding through the cedars or across the grassy belt of the valley he would neigh his gladness.  Hare had come to love Silvermane and talked to him and treated him as if he were human.

When the mustangs were brought into camp the day’s work began, the same work as that of yesterday, and yet with endless variety, with ever-changing situations that called for quick wits, steel arms, stout hearts, and unflagging energies.  The darkening blue sky and the sun-tipped crags of Vermillion Cliffs were signals to start for camp.  They ate like wolves, sat for a while around the camp-fire, a ragged, weary, silent group; and soon lay down, their dark faces in the shadow of the cedars.

In the beginning of this toil-filled time Hare had resolutely set himself to forget Mescal, and he had succeeded at least for a time, when he was so sore and weary that he scarcely thought at all.  But she came back to him, and then there was seldom an hour that was not hers.  The long months which seemed years since he had seen her, the change in him wrought by labor and peril, the deepening friendship between him and Dave, even the love he bore Silvermane—­these, instead of making dim the memory of the dark-eyed girl, only made him tenderer in his thought of her.

Snow drove the riders from the canyon-camp down to Silver Cup, where they found August Naab and Snap, who had ridden in the day before.

“Now you couldn’t guess how many cattle are back there in the canyons,” said Dave to his father.

“I haven’t any idea,” answered August, dubiously.

“Five thousand head.”

“Dave!” His father’s tone was incredulous.

“Yes.  You know we haven’t been back in there for years.  The stock has multiplied rapidly in spite of the lions and wolves.  Not only that, but they’re safe from the winter, and are not likely to be found by Dene or anybody else.”

“How do you make that out?”

“The first cattle we drove in used to come back here to Silver Cup to winter.  Then they stopped coming, and we almost forgot them.  Well, they’ve got a trail round under the Saddle, and they go down and winter in the canyon.  In summer they head up those rocky gullies, but they can’t get up on the mountain.  So it isn’t likely any one will ever discover them.  They are wild as deer and fatter than any stock on the ranges.”

“Good!  That’s the best news I’ve had in many a day.  Now, boys, we’ll ride the mountain slope toward Seeping Springs, drive the cattle down, and finish up this branding.  Somebody ought to go to White Sage.  I’d like to know what’s going on, what Holderness is up to, what Dene is doing, if there’s any stock being driven to Lund.”