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.
"All right, Morley," he said with a grin. "Get going; we'll meet up with Sanderson at Devil's Hole."