It is a long day's ride from Lost Dog Cañon—dragging a pack-animal a man would get in about sundown—and as the days wore on Crittenden made it a point to ride so that he could cut the Carrizo trail between four and five. This was a desperate game that he was playing, for Pecos Dalhart was undoubtedly in an ugly mood; but a little nerve will carry a man a long way sometimes, and at a pinch Crit could shoot a gun himself. So it happened that on the day that Pecos rode to the edge of the bench and sat looking down doubtfully upon the distant Verde Crossing, he heard a horse pounding in on his right and finally made out Isaac Crittenden, in wild and unnecessary pursuit of a cow. At a suitable distance the cowman looked up, let his cow go, and ambled cautiously over toward his former agent. Holding his hands in sight to show that his intentions were pacific, he came in closer and at last motioned to Pecos to come away from the mesa rim.
"What's the matter with you?" he called, frantically repeating his signal. "D' you want to let Boone Morgan see you?"
"Boone Morgan?" repeated Pecos, reining in his horse. "Why—what—"
"Haven't you heard the news?" demanded Crittenden, hectoringly. "Boone Morgan took a hundred head of your Monkey-wrench critters down the Pinal trail, and every dam' one of 'em had been burnt over from a U. He was up here inquirin' for you a day or two ago."
Their eyes met and Pecos tried to pass it off in bravado, but Crit had him at a disadvantage. "The best thing you can do is drift," he observed, meaningly.
"Oh, I don't know," said Pecos, "I got a hundred head an' more of cows over in Lost Dog Cañon yet. What'll you—"
"They ain't worth a dam'," cut in Crittenden, harshly.
"No, I know they ain't," assented the cowboy, patiently, "not to me—but to a man with a big outfit they'd be worth about fifteen hundred dollars."
"Well, I don't want 'em," snapped Crit. "I got troubles enough, already, without hidin' out from Boone Morgan."