Chapter Seven
Explanations
They agreed with Old Bill’s simple philosophy and all three set about making camp. Slim took care of Lightning and Old Bill’s horse while Chuck went about rustling an armful of wood.
Old Bill opened his blanket roll and a goodly supply of provisions was revealed, something more than the bitter coffee on which they had tried to satisfy their hunger that day.
A crackling fire was soon going, the bacon broiling and the potatoes frying. There was plenty of bread and a pot of delicious coffee. Slim and Chuck ate to their fill, and Old Bill watched them with twinkling eyes. These were youngsters after his own heart, clean, manly young chaps--able to ride with the best in the west, afraid of nothing, including mountain wildcats. He knew that he could count on them for the work that was ahead.
When they had finished the meal, Slim and Chuck took the few utensils to the nearby stream where they washed them in the cool water. By the time they were back at camp, Old Bill had the blankets spread out, more fuel on the fire, and his pipe going. He was ready to talk, ready to tell them why he had summoned them to meet him so mysteriously on the Sky High trail.
The cowboy from the Flying Arrow and the one from the Circle Four eased their weary bodies down on the blankets and waited for Old Bill to speak. The cattleman shifted his pipe.
“I’ll start in from the first,” he said. “It goes quite a ways back into Wyoming cattle history, but it’s best that you know fully what you’re going into.”
He jerked a thumb in the general direction of the Creeping Shadows country.
“That’s the best cattle country in this part of the west--plenty of rich grass and lots of water that’s good all of the year round. The valley is set down between the Cajons and the Three Soldiers and it’s warmer than most parts of Wyoming in the winter. But it’s tough country to get into--too expensive for a railroad for the amount of business, so the world has sort of forgotten the valley except when the trail herds come out in the fall on the way to the loading yards at Mopstick. The valley is just as tough, maybe a little tougher, than it was thirty years ago when Adam Marks went in and started the Box B. Adam had a fight on his hands then and he’s got one now.”
“So we’re headed for the Box B?” said Slim softly. He had heard his father speak of Adam Marks and the Box B, of the fine grass and water on the range and of the choice cattle the Box B sent to market each fall.