“Now, I’ll tell you why I want these cows,” he said. “We’ve got to rush the sheep up the range. As soon as I’m gone start ’em, but surround the 238 sheep with a line of cows, and keep a good bunch ahead. From a distance it will look like a cattle-drive, and may serve to throw the punchers off the track if they’re anywhere in sight.”
“By Michaeljohn! That’s a good idea!” exclaimed Sims; “but I don’t allow either of them will feed much.”
“Let ’em starve, then; but keep ’em moving,” said Bud. “We win or bust on this effort. Fact is, we’ve got to keep those cows anyhow, to return them to their owners if possible, and you might as well make some good use of them.”
Mike Stelton, meanwhile, who had often used the place as a rendezvous before, went into the usual shady spot, dropped the reins over his horse’s head, and lay down.
Stelton’s heart was at peace, for the sheepmen he considered defeated at every angle. Jimmie Welsh, half dead and delirious, was on his way to the Circle Arrow ranch under Billy Speaker’s care. Consequently, it was impossible that Bud Larkin should know anything of the battle at Welsh’s Butte.
Larkin would go on about his plans, dreaming the cowmen still in captivity, and the pursuing punchers on a false trail, Stelton calculated. Then he chuckled at the surprise in store for the ambitious 239 sheepmen, for the remaining cowboys under Beef Bissell had already begun to talk of a war of extermination and revenge.
When he had disposed of Larkin to his satisfaction, the foreman recollected with delight that the rustlers must have the fifteen hundred cows well up the range by this morning. The chance of their being intercepted by the cowboys was small, and the probabilities were that they would be at the northern shipping-point and well out of the way before the punchers had finished with the miserable sheep.
Two things Mike Stelton had not counted on. One was the prompt and daring action of Larkin in risking his all on one forced march up the range; the other was the treachery of Smithy Caldwell in not burning the note according to instructions.
From the first Stelton had “doped” Caldwell out all wrong. He took him for a really evil character supplied with a fund of sly cunning and clever brains that would benefit the rustlers immensely, and for that reason had warmly supported his application for membership. Somehow he did not see the cowardly streak and dangerous selfishness that were the man’s two distinguishing traits.
Now, as Stelton lay in the shade with his hat over his face, steeped in roseate dreams, the weariness 240 of a week of long marches and an afternoon’s hard fighting oppressed him. He had been riding nights of late, and just to lie down was to feel drowsy. He would like to get a nap before the sun got directly above and left no shade whatever, but he did not permit himself this luxury, although, like all men with uneasy consciences, he was a very light sleeper.