“I’m all set for whatever we run into in the Creeping Shadows country,” he said.
“You’ll run into plenty of trouble,” promised Old Bill. “Let’s eat. I’m half starved.”
Slim fried the trout and half an hour later, with the sun dropping down behind the Three Soldiers and the twilight coming up out of the Creeping Shadows, they sat down around the campfire. There was little conversation during the meal, for to riders of the range food is too important to mix with idle talk.
The supper over, Slim and Chuck washed up the dishes while Old Bill stretched out on his blanket and puffed contentedly at his pipe.
“Looks like we’re all set to start in the morning,” said Chuck, returning to the campfire.
“The earlier the better,” replied Old Bill. “It’s a good day’s jog down to Dirty Water. That’s the one town in the Creeping Shadows and you’ll want to hit there first and make a few inquiries about jobs. Course the only ranch I want you to work on is the Box B, so if some misguided soul offers you another job, you’ll have to do some quick thinking and get out of it.”
“What will we say if someone in Dirty Water gets curious and wants to know how we rode in?” asked Slim.
“Tell ’em the truth. Say you came down the Sky High trail, but don’t say anything more. No one will recognize you, what with Chuck having a new haircut and a shirt that doesn’t talk out loud.”
“What about the fellows guarding the trail?” Chuck wanted to know.
“Whoever asks will probably know about the guards and if you tell him you came down Sky High, it will cause a little trouble for the guards, which should be all right with you.”