“Wouldn’t have to be very good to be that,” said Chuck. “We almost burned out this summer. No rain for weeks.”
“There’s been little or no rain here, but the Creeping Shadows always seem to get water.”
They were silent for a time and Slim wondered why Chuck, too, was anxious to get to the bottom of the trail that night. He couldn’t help thinking about the letter which had fallen from his companion’s pocket the night before and there was still the unanswered question on why Chuck had been set upon by the two gunmen.
The sun was well toward its zenith when they made their second stop beside a small stream. There was a little grass and a few trees in the valley, enough at least to provide them with shade.
Slim pulled off his boots and socks and looked at his feet. They were red and swollen. Chuck’s looked to be in even worse condition.
The Circle Four cowboy crawled to the water’s edge on his hands and knees and gratefully thrust his feet into the cool water.
“Oh boy! What a relief. I didn’t know water could feel so good. I’ve half a mind to spend the rest of the day right here.”
“Then you’ll have to spend it alone. I’m going to push on as soon as my feet feel a little better and we have some coffee.”
“Maybe the coffee will pep me up,” agreed Chuck. “I’ll rustle up the wood in a little bit.”
The cool water reduced the swelling of their feet and a few minutes later they donned their socks and boots and picked up enough dry wood for a fire. Slim filled the coffee pot and shortly before noon they had two cups of the steaming beverage apiece.