Slim could sympathize with Al, for even though he had enjoyed one of Lee Wu’s good breakfasts, he was hungry. When they reached the Double O, the Box B riders paused only long enough to water their horses, before pressing on toward the home ranch.
Nels and Joe had decided on night riding and Slim knew that there would be little rest for him until after the dawn of another day. When they returned to the ranch, Joe explained the new plan of action.
“We’re splitting up the range,” he said. “Most of the stuff has been stolen along our north and east line and along the south and east line of the Double O. We’ll load up a chuck wagon at once and start for our north line where we’ll make camp. Get a move on, boys, and help Lee Wu get ready. The Double O’s lost their cook and Lee’s got to cook for both outfits.”
It was just before sunset when a team was hitched to the chuck wagon and Wu, his shotgun over his knees, cracked the whip, yelled a wild Chinese chant, and the team leaped away to the accompaniment of many crashing pots and pans.
Walt Kelly, in spite of his protests, was left at the ranch to guard the boss and to feed and care for him while the others trailed out behind the fast-wheeling Wu.
It was deep twilight when they reached the site which had been selected for the camp. There was a good spring and plenty of timber. The Double O boys were waiting and they greeted Wu with wild shouts of joy for the Chinaman’s reputation as a cook was known the length and breadth of the valley.
It was well after dark before supper was ready and they fell to with ravenous appetites. The Double O riders were loud in their praises of Wu’s cooking and the grinning Chinaman served them again and again until he finally spread his hands and said, “All gone, too much hungry.”
They grinned and leaned back on the ground, waiting for orders from Nels and Joe. Slim looked them over. In addition to the Double O boss and Al Bass, there were five riders from that ranch. All of them were clean, capable-appearing fellows. In the Box B contingent were Joe, Doug, Pat Beals, Chuck and himself. With Wu to guard the camp, that meant twelve riders were available for riding the range.
Nels, by virtue of his years, took command and assigned each rider to his night’s work. Three shots, fired in rapid succession, were to be the signal that trouble was ahead.
“This is a finish fight,” Nels warned them. “The word’s gone out that we mean business. Shoot first and ask questions afterward.”