"That's fair," Nevada replied. "Th' harder th' work th' bigger th' pay—come on, boys," he cried, turning and waving his arm. "We're in!"
While the newcomers put their horses in the corral and toiled carefully up the steep trail Manuel stared steadily into the east and again saw the force that had filled him with fear. Hall, who was now watching with him, abruptly arose and returned to the hut, reporting: "Seven men out there—it's th' Bar-20, all right, I reckon"; and almost immediately afterward Manuel found a moving speck far to the east which Shaw's powerful glasses soon showed to be three pack horses driven by two men.
Nevada looked curiously about him as he gained his goal and then sought a place in the hut for his bunk. This, however, was full, and he cast around outside to find the best place for his blankets. Finding it, he stepped to the spring and had just quenched his thirst when he saw Shaw standing on a ledge of rock above him, looking down. "What is it, Shaw?" he asked.
"Well, you fellers shore enough raised h—l, now didn't you!" demanded the leader, a rising anger in his voice. "Yo're a fine collection of fools, you are—"
"What do—"
"—Leading that Bar-20 gang out here by th' nice, plain trail you left," Shaw continued, sarcastically, not heeding the other's explosive interjection. "That's a nice thing to saddle us with! D—n it, don't you know you've queered th' game for good?"
"Yo're drunk!" retorted Nevada, heatedly. "We came up from th' south! How th' devil could that crowd hit our trail?"
"They must 'a hit southwest on a circle," lied Shaw. "Manuel just now saw 'em pass a clearing an' heading this way—nine of 'em!"
"Th' devil!" exclaimed Nevada. "How many are up here now?" he asked quickly.
"Sixteen."