Buck and his two men did not follow the road, but made their way by easy stages to the rolling and wooded section of the Running Dog which adjoined the fine water springs on the Shumway ranch. They knew about what they would find there; it had been the same story day after day since Matt Brady had undertaken to fence in the Shumway water.
Every morning Miguel Cervantes rode over that way and spent an hour cutting fence. If any of the Running Dog men showed up, Cervantes would smile and take all that was said and would allow himself to be ordered away. If they did not show up, he would finish cutting the fence and then depart. Later, Matt Brady would repair the fence.
By this mute and inglorious scheme of tactics, Cervantes caused the Running Dog some irritation, avoided a row, and registered protest against high-handed work. It gained very little, but it was at least a protest. It was about all Cervantes had to do on the place, since the remnant of the Lazy S stock was safely rebranded and herded with the Running Dog cattle.
Upon this particular morning, Miguel Cervantes was busily cutting wires while his pony cropped the lush grass about the springs, when he observed a single horseman approaching from the hills. At the same time his pony lifted its head and whinnied—in another direction where nothing appeared. Cervantes was puzzled, but, centering his gaze on the rider, he recognized the figure of Jack Robinson. He ceased work, lolled against a fence post, and began to roll a cigarette. He looked up with a flashing smile as Robinson drew rein.
“Buenos dias!” cried the rider gayly. “How goes it this morning, Miguel?”
“Well, señor. I am glad to see you again.”
“The gladness is all mine,” said Robinson cheerfully. “If you knew how close I came not to seeing you again you’d get me. How is the señorita?”
“Frying doughnuts.” Cervantes chuckled. His keen eyes darted over the other’s figure. “You slept out last night, yes?”
“C’rect, sure’s my name’s Jack Robinson! Look rumpled, do I? Oh, I’ve been taking a squint at the country, Mig. Need any help here?”
The other shrugged. “No, thanks. It would be better if you rode on to the ranch.”