“If I were you I would come over to my shack and stay. You can work your district just as well from there and I can help you. It would not be so easy for them to pick on the two of us. One man does not stand much show alone; he has to sleep sometime.”
“And let them think they had run me out,” Scott exclaimed. “Nothing doing. I’m not afraid of them.”
“There are times when a man has a right to be afraid,” Baxter urged, “it isn’t cowardice, it’s only decent caution and common sense.”
He was so earnest about it and so different from his usual daredevil self that Scott seriously considered his proposition. “Well, I can’t run away now without any pretext, but if they make it too hot for me I’ll consider it. If I have to run anywhere it will be to you.”
“Good, I don’t want to seem to croak but I expect to see you before long. Don’t put off the running too long.”
“By the way,” Scott called just as he was starting back for the chute to see if the sheep were coming back all right to their allotted ranges, “have you had lunch? I forgot mine in the excitement and it is almost three o’clock.”
“Forgot mine, too. Might as well eat together here before you go.”
They brought their lunches from their saddle bags and continued the investigation discussion. Probably most of the people within fifty miles would be talking about it in the morning. They had scarcely swallowed the last sandwich when Scott noticed a distinct column of smoke rising over the ridge to the north.
“Hello,” he exclaimed, “is that another of Jed’s signal fires?”
Baxter took a long look at it. “No, that’s no brush pile. There is no wind and yet the smoke seems to be pretty widely scattered. That’s the trouble with this country; four days of sunshine and then fire will run in the needles. That cannot be far from the lookout station, but I suppose we better go up and have a look.”