Hare told the story of the fruitless search.

“It’s no more than we expected,” said Dave.  “The man doesn’t live who can trail the peon.  Mescal’s like a captured wild mustang that’s slipped her halter and gone free.  She’ll die out there on the desert or turn into a stalk of the Indian cactus for which she’s named.  It’s a pity, for she’s a good girl, too good for Snap.”

“What’s your news?” inquired Hare.

“Oh, nothing much,” replied Dave, with a short laugh.  “The cattle wintered well.  We’ve had little to do but hang round and watch.  Zeke and I chased old Whitefoot one day, and got pretty close to Seeping Springs.  We met Joe Stube, a rider who was once a friend of Zeke’s.  He’s with Holderness now, and he said that Holderness had rebuilt the corrals at the spring; also he has put up a big cabin, and he has a dozen riders there.  Stube told us Snap had been shooting up White Sage.  He finished up by killing Snood.  They got into an argument about you.”

“About me!”

“Yes, it seems that Snood took your part, and Snap wouldn’t stand for it.  Too bad!  Snood was a good fellow.  There’s no use talking, Snap’s going too far—­he is—­” Dave did not conclude his remark, and the silence was more significant than any utterance.

“What will the Mormons in White Sage say about Snap’s killing Snood?”

“They’ve said a lot.  This even-break business goes all right among gun-fighters, but the Mormons call killing murder.  They’ve outlawed Culver, and Snap will be outlawed next.”

“Your father hinted that Snap would find the desert too small for him and me?”

“Jack, you can’t be too careful.  I’ve wanted to speak to you about it.  Snap will ride in here some day and then—­” Dave’s pause was not reassuring.

And it was only on the third day after Dave’s remark that Hare, riding down the mountain with a deer he had shot, looked out from the trail and saw Snap’s cream pinto trotting toward Silver Cup.  Beside Snap rode a tall man on a big bay.  When Hare reached camp he reported to George and Zeke what he had seen, and learned in reply that Dave had already caught sight of the horsemen, and had gone down to the edge of the cedars.  While they were speaking Dave hurriedly ran up the trail.

“It’s Snap and Holderness,” he called out, sharply “What’s Snap doing with Holderness?  What’s he bringing him here for?”

“I don’t like the looks of it,” replied Zeke, deliberately.

“Jack, what what’ll you do?” asked Dave, suddenly.

“Do?  What can I do?  I’m not going to run out of camp because of a visit from men who don’t like me.”

“It might be wisest.”

“Do you ask me to run to avoid a meeting with your brother?”

“No.”  The dull red came to Dave’s cheek.  “But will you draw on him?”

“Certainly not.  He’s August Naab’s son and your brother.”