“Two.”
“How do you think they got up that far if they didn’t come by here? I heard them coming and believe me, I dusted around and made our camp do a vanishing act. You want to remember we’re not far off the trail and this looks like a handy watering place on a hot day. I wasn’t taking any chances.”
“Well, you can come out of hiding now. Those fellows are at the summit by this time and from what I gathered as they went by me, they’ll be there quite a while.”
Chuck emerged from the undergrowth, carrying his rifle in one hand. He jumped from one rock to another, and finally arrived on Slim’s side of the stream.
“Now we’ll have to lug all of the duffel and grub over here,” said the Flying Arrow cowboy.
“Not on your life. There’s a fine bite of grass on the other side and a little hollow to hide our fire. No more camps near the trail for me.”
“You’re getting worse than an old hen,” protested Slim.
“I am, huh! Well listen to me. The boys that rode up the trail swung down to the stream here to water their horses. It was a darned good thing I was on the job and had sense enough to get our stuff out of sight. Why, I sat over there with my rifle trained on them just itching for a chance to bang away. But I’d done my job too well. I hadn’t left a thing for them to steal.”
“Hear much they said?” asked Slim.
“Everything, but they only talked about the heat and the long ride up to the summit.”