The weary cows were held over for a day of rest. The night guards were doubled and this precaution was maintained during the succeeding two stops before reaching the shipping point.
Harris and Billie sat on the top rail of the loading chute while the last few Three Bar steers were being prodded on board the cars.
Harris slipped from his perch and motioned to Moore and Horne.
"You can go up town now and take on a few drinks. Hunt up an old friend or two and wag your chins. Make it right secretive and confidential and make each one promise faithful not to breathe a syllable to another living soul. That way the news is sure to travel rapid."
He returned to the girl as the stock train pulled out. Two hands waved a joyous farewell from the top of the cars, delighted at the prospect of a trip to market with the steers.
"I don't pretend to regret that old Rile played even for Bang's," Harris said. "But I wish he'd sorted out some one else in the albino's place. It was bad business for the Three Bar when Harper went down."
"He was the head of the gang," she said. "The worst of the lot."
"And for that reason he was able to hold them down," Harris explained. "It was some of the outfit from over in the Breaks that stampeded us. Slade wouldn't let his own boys know that much about him so he'd hire Lang. Harper had brains. He wouldn't have gone in for that. Lang has thrown in against us. He's all bulk and no brains and as savage as an Apache buck. He'll hang himself in the end but in the interim he may hand us considerable grief."