As the cowboy circled the herd, the moon, at first directly to his left, slowly dropped behind until its, as yet, dull light shone full upon his back.  The beasts were quite quiet and the sense of responsibility which was his, in a measure, lessened.

Some distance ahead, and near by where’ he must pass, a clump of undergrowth and a few stunted trees grew round the base of a hillock and broken rocks.  The cattle were reposing close up by this shelter.  Nat’s horse, as he drew near to the brush, was ambling along at that peculiar gait, half walk, half trot, essentially the pace of a “cow-horse.”  Suddenly the animal came to a stand, for which there seemed no apparent reason.  He stood for a second with ears cocked, sniffing at the night air in evident alarm.  Then a prolonged, low whistle split the air.  The sound came from the other side of the rocks, and, to the tenderfoot’s ears, constituted a signal.

The most natural thing for him to have done would have been to wait for further developments, if developments there were to be.  However, he was a plucky youngster, in spite of his inexperience, and, besides, something of the derision of Jake Bond was still rankling in his mind.  He knew the whistle to be the effort of some man, and his discovery of the individual would further prove the accuracy of his hearing, and he would then have the laugh of his companion.  A more experienced hand would have first looked to his six-shooter and thought of cattle thieves, but, as Jake had said, he was a tenderfoot.  Instead, without a moment’s hesitation, he dashed his spurs into his broncho’s flanks and swept round to the shadowed side of the rocks.

He realized his folly when too late.  The moment he entered the shade there came the slithering whirr of something cutting through the air.  Something struck the horse’s front legs, and the next moment he shot out of the saddle in response to a somersault which the broncho turned.  His horse had been roped by one of his front legs.  The cowboy lay where he fell, dazed and half stunned.  Then he became aware of three dark faces bending over him.  An instant later a gag was forced into his mouth, and he felt himself being bound hand and foot.  Then the three faces silently disappeared, and all was quiet about him.

In the meantime, on the rising ground, where the camp fire burned, all was calm slumber.  The two old hands were taking their rest with healthy contentment and noisy assertion.  The glory of the rising moon was lost to the slumberers, and no dread of coming disaster disturbed them.  The stertorous blasts of their nostrils testified to this.  The replenished fire slowly died down to a mass of white smoldering ashes, and the chill-growing air caused one of the sleepers to move restlessly in his sleep and draw his head down beneath his blanket for greater warmth.