“He ain’t hurt much. Couple of days and he’ll never know he was hit.”
“I’ll say he won’t,” put in the other rustler. “In a couple of more days he’ll not care what happens. I’m positive this kid and that Slim Evans are cattle dicks.”
“We searched Meade but didn’t find a thing,” replied Cook.
“Makes no difference. These boys are too dangerous to have loose on the range. Why Evans was within a few minutes of you when you were riding in the foothills of the Three Soldiers after you failed to bump off old man Marks. If it hadn’t been for that rain, he’d have gotten you sure.
“Another thing, he’s looking for a man that rides a horse with a shoe that’s got a V-shaped nick.”
“I fixed that,” growled Cook. “Had Doug Huston file a nick on one of the shoes of Meade’s horse and we filed a couple on the horses of the other boys. Say, there’s so many V-shaped nicks making tracks around this valley that the fellow who tries to follow all of them will go crazy.”
“Then let’s hope that Evans tries to follow them all. That fellow’s just plain dynamite.”
Chuck was hungry and he spoke up.
“How about something to eat?” he asked.
“Not tonight. We haven’t got any grub with us. Maybe we’ll be back tomorrow.”