Tex rested both hands on his saddle horn and looked south. He frowned. A cow-puncher on circle is supposed to get all the cattle in sight except on ground he knows will be swept by other riders. They were both aware of that. Robin didn’t need to ask what Tex was thinking.
“He wasn’t none too clear, was he, kid?” Tex remarked. “He said to work back. But if one of ’em don’t come up behind us there’ll be a parcel of stuff missed.”
“Let’s linger awhile,” Robin suggested. “See if one of ’em shows up. They’ll be in the river bottom by now.”
They got down off their horses, sought the shade of a clump of jack pine. Half an hour passed. Those distant cattle fed undisturbed.
“If they came up the canyon they ought to be abreast of here now.” Robin broke a long silence.
“Yep. Let’s ride,” Tex muttered.
“Which way?”
“Look into the canyon first.”
A view of that deep gorge, straight-walled, floored with sage, gave sight of cattle feeding quietly between them and the river.
“No riders in sight,” Tex commented. “Maybe they went swimmin’. Reckon we better get those cattle below us on the bench, kid.”