Slim loosened his left foot from the stirrup and then lay forward along the neck of his horse, Cimarron doing likewise; and then the two animals moved forward at a walk, innocent of any silhouetted figures sticking up in the saddles. Louder and louder grew the sound and soon the two clinging riders could plainly distinguish the rattle of horns from the hoofbeats. A few minutes more, and then a mounted figure became vaguely outlined. The herd was being moved at a walk, possibly to avoid greater noise until it was well across the Double X line, and now its bulk could be guessed at.
The herder leaned forward suddenly to scrutinize two moving blots he barely could make out against a rise of ground behind them, and the movement was the beginning of the end, for him. A sudden stream of fire poured from the left-hand blot and he slid from his saddle without a sound. The blots let out yells and dashed for the front ranks of the herd, which wheeled like a flash and thundered across the range over a course at right angles to the one which they had been following. The two night guards spurred towards the place where they hoped to come in contact with other rustlers, but found no one to oppose them, and they then set out to follow the herd. Far ahead of them they saw two flashes, followed at certain, agreed-upon intervals by another and then a fourth. Cimarron fired once, counted twelve and then sent two more shots into the air as close together as he could make them, which left nothing to be desired on that score. When he and Slim neared the herd again the moon shone down faintly and let them see what they were doing.
"Where'd you get 'em?" yelled Matt Webb. "There ain't a brand on 'em, that I can see; an' I can see plain enough for that."
"Where do you suppose we got 'em?" retorted Cimarron, "from Europe?" He rode at one end of the front rank and had the satisfaction of seeing it falter.
"I see a Bar H mark!" shouted Rich Morgan. "An' they're stoppin', thank th' Lord!"
In another ten minutes the herd started milling and soon afterward became sensible.
"I say we have been made a present of some of Huff's pets," chuckled Rich. "He says mavericks take title from th' ranch they're on; an' I'm gamblin' these are on th' Double X!"
"If they was ours I'd say to let 'em wander," spoke up Cimarron. "Seein' as they ain't, I reckon it'll save a lot of work if we beds 'em down an' keeps 'em together. I'll go on in an' let Lin know, so he can turn out th' off shift. We shot somebody out near that dividin' arroyo between Slim's section an' mine; you might take a look out that way. Slim's hopin' it was Nevada; but I'm sayin' mebby he'll be surprised when he finds out who it is."
"I'm guessin' right about th' outfit he belongs to, anyhow," replied Slim. "An' I'm not goin' in till I sees which one he is. Comin', Matt? I'll ride out with you."
Leaving Cimarron to go to the bunkhouse for the off shift, Slim and Matt rode rapidly toward the scene of the fight, and when they reached it they saw a figure on the ground. Dismounting they bent over it, and then looked at each other.