Mary V unsaddled a very sweaty Jake before the sky was reddening with the dawn; before even the earliest of little brown birds were a-chirp or a rooster had lifted his head to crow.

She wakened Tango with the bridle, slapped her saddle on him and tightened it with petulant jerks, got her rifle and her camera out from under the sacks, mounted and rode away again before even the cook had crawled out of his blankets.

CHAPTER TEN

SIGNS, AND NO ONE TO READ THEM

Bill Hayden’s mouth was pinched into a straight line across his desert-scarred face.  He shortened his hold on the rope that held Jake and passed the flat of his hand down Jake’s neck under the heavy mane.  He held up a moistened palm and looked at it needlessly.  He stepped back and surveyed the drawn-in flanks, and with his eye he measured the length and depth of the saddle marks, as though he half hoped thereby to identify the saddle that had made them.  His eyes were hard with the cold fury that lumped the muscles on his jaw.

He turned his head and surveyed the scattered group of boys busy with ropes, bridles and saddles—­making ready for the day’s work, which happened to be the gathering of more horses to break, for the war across the water used up horses at an amazing rate, and Sudden was not the man to let good prices go to waste.  The horse herd would be culled of its likeliest saddle horses while the market was best.

To-day, and for several days, the boys would ride north and west, combing the rough country that held two broad-bottomed streams and therefore fair grazing for horses.  Bill had meant to ride Jake, but he was changing his mind.  Jake, from the look of him, had lately received exercise enough to last him for one day, at least.  Suspicion dwelt in Bill’s eyes as they rested on each man in turn.  They halted at Tex, who was standing with his head up, staring at Jake with more interest than Bill believed an innocent man had any right to feel.  Tex caught his glance and came over, trailing his loop behind him.

“What yo’ all been doing to Jake, gantin’ him up like that, Bill?” Tex inquired, his black eyes taking in the various marks of hard riding that had infuriated Bill.

Bill hesitated, spat into the dust, and turned half away, stroking Jake’s roughened shoulder.

“Me, I been workin’ him out, mebby.  What’s it to yuh?”

“Me?  It ain’t nothin’ a-tall to me, Bill.  Only—­yo’ all shore done it thorough,” grinned Tex, and passed on to where a horse he wanted was standing with his head against the fence, hoping to dodge the loop he felt sure would presently come hissing his way.

Bill watched him from under his eyebrows, and he observed that Tex sent more than one glance toward Jake.  Bill interpreted those glances to suit himself, and while he unobtrusively led Jake into a shed to give him a hurried grooming before saddling another horse, Bill did some hard thinking.