It was not to be supposed that two persons, engaged in an unlawful business, would sit down beside a public highway and hold a conversation in such a loud voice that any one in the neighborhood would be able to learn all their secrets.
Fred Sheldon got quite close, but though the murmur was continued with more distinctness than before, he could not distinguish many words nor keep the run of the conversation. There may have been something in the fact that the faces of the two, as a rule, were turned away from the listener, but now and then in speaking one of them would look at the other and raise his voice slightly.
This indicated that he was more in earnest just then, and Fred caught a word or two without difficulty, the fragments, as they reached him, making a queer jumble.
Bud Heyland's voice was first identified in the jumble and murmur.
"Big thing—clean two thousand—got it down fine, Sutton."
The reply of the companion was not audible, but Bud continued staring at him and smoking so furiously that the boy, crouching behind them, plainly saw the vapor as it curled upward and tainted the clear summer air above their heads.
In a moment, however, Fred caught the profile of Cyrus Sutton against the starlight background, while that of young Heyland and his briar-wood looked as if drawn in ink against the sky.
Both were looking at each other, and the words reached him more distinctly.
"Must be careful—dangerous business—been there myself, Bud, don't be in a hurry."
This, of course, was spoken by the cattle drover, and it was plain that it must refer to the robbery. Bud was laboring under some impatience and was quick to make answer.