There was a good deal of activity in that lonely bottom. Fairly in the middle of a flat three hundred yards wide and half a mile long Steele and Thatcher had bunched about a hundred head of cattle of all ages. With only two riders to hold them this herd surged first one way then another and the two horsemen kept their mounts on the jump. Yet now and then one or the other managed by a combination of speed and skill to cut off a cow and a calf and turn them toward the blind end of the flat.
Robin watched for half an hour. By that time the job was done. At least thirty cows and calves had been separated from the herd. Then Steele and Thatcher headed the remnant of mixed stuff into the mouth of the wide canyon.
Robin mounted and sped south to overtake Matthews, who loped along with little bunches of wild cattle streaking out ahead of him. Robin had seen enough. Back in that bottom was a lot of fine material for Steele and Thatcher to work on at their leisure when round-up was over. No riders would sweep that territory for seven months. Those cows and calves would winter in the bottom. They would not see a rider until that precious pair came down to run the T Bar S on the calves. God only knew what would befall the cows. But whatever happened to them, long before spring, cows and calves would be separated, and the fresh brand scars healed. No one would ever question that indelible mark of ownership.
Robin was satisfied up to a certain point. He had an idea how they worked. He knew who they were. No doubt of that remained. He was pretty sure that although there might be Bar M Bars in that throwback, there must be other brands, that in every place where this pair of thieves took the outside circle there would be cows and calves thrown back to be worked on later. Robin felt sure they played no favorites. He wondered what Adam Sutherland would say if he knew. He did not have to wonder how Dan Mayne would take it. Robin wished he had prevailed on Tex to ride with him to that jump-off. He had only his own word, as yet, in spite of what he had seen. So he couldn’t talk, even to Tex Matthews, whom he liked and felt he could trust. He could only relate this tale of wonders beheld to Dan Mayne, whom he couldn’t trust to keep still.
Still, Robin was sanguine that in time, in not too great a span of time, Steele and Thatcher, with a little secret assistance from himself, would tangle themselves in their own ropes. The stock inspectors would get them, if a necktie party from the Bear Paws didn’t get them first.
He rode fast. He wanted to be well ahead of those two driving the canyon. He took the opposite side of the bench from Tex and stirred the running cattle to even greater speed. Matthews spurred up to join him.
“Hey, what’s the rush?” he inquired. “What for the Blocker graze? Sutherland wouldn’t thank you for meltin’ the tallow off’n his steers’ ribs thataway.”
Robin let that go by. It struck him that he had better stop Tex from casual talking.
“Say, Tex,” he put it bluntly. “Don’t you let out I rode down where I could look into the river bottom, will you?”
Matthews stared at him for a second. Robin matched his gaze without change of expression. The Texan suddenly shrugged his shoulders.