But it was Mary Bransford that he was fighting for, and if he could get the herd of cattle to Las Vegas and dispose of them, he would be provided with money enough to defeat his enemies.  But money he must have.

At breakfast the next morning Carter selected the outfit for the drive.  He named half a dozen men, who were variously known as Buck, Andy, Bud, Soapy, Sogun, and the Kid.  These men were experienced trail-herd men, and Carter had confidence in them.

Their faces, as they prepared for the trip, revealed their joy and pride over their selection, while the others, disappointment in their eyes, plainly envied their fellow-companions.

But Sanderson lightened their disappointment by entrusting them with a new responsibility.

“You fellows go back to the Double A an’ hang around,” he told them.  “I don’t care whether you do a lick of work or not.  Stick close to the house an’ keep an eye on Mary Bransford.  If Dale, or any of his gang, come nosin’ around, bore them, plenty!  If any harm comes to Mary Bransford while I’m gone, I’ll salivate you guys!”

Shortly after breakfast the herd was on the move.  The cowboys started them westward slowly, for trail cattle do not travel fast, urging them on with voice and quirt until the line stretched out into a sinuously weaving band a mile long.

They reached the edge of the big level after a time, and filed through a narrow pass that led upward to a table-land.  Again, after a time, they took a descending trail, which brought them down upon a big plain of grassland that extended many miles in all directions.  Fringing the plain on the north was a range of hills that swept back to the mountains that guarded the neck of the big basin at Okar.

There was timber on the hills, and the sky line was ragged with boulders.  And so Sanderson and his men, glancing northward many times during the morning, did not see a rider who made his way through the hills.

During the previous afternoon the rider had sat on his horse in the dim haze of distance, watching the Double A outfit round up its cattle; and during the night he had stood on guard, watching the men around the camp fire.

He had seen most of the Double A men return toward the ranchhouse after the trail crew had been selected; he had followed the progress of the herd during the morning.

At noon he halted in a screen of timber and grinned felinely.

“They’re off, for certain,” he said aloud.

Late that afternoon the man was in Okar, talking with Dale and Silverthorn and Maison.

“What you’ve been expectin’ has happened,” he told them.  “Sanderson, Carter, an’ six men are on the move with a trail herd.  They’re headed straight on for Las Vegas.”

Silverthorn rubbed the palms of his hands together, Maison smirked, and Dale’s eyes glowed with satisfaction.

Dale got up and looked at the man who had brought the information.