They drew up to the door of one of the main tents and slipped the saddles from the weary horses.
"Do ye hobble?"
"No—they stay with me," said Mose, slapping Kintuck. "Go on, boy, here's grass worth while for ye."
"By mighty, Mose!" said Reynolds, looking at the trailer tenderly, "it certainly is good for sore eyes to see ye. I didn't know but you'd got mixed up an' done for in some of them squabbles. I heard the State authorities had gone out to round up that band of reds you was with."
"We did have one brush with the sheriff and some game wardens, but I stood him off while my friends made tracks for the reservation. The sheriff was for fight, but I argued him out of it. It looked like hot weather for a while."
While they were talking the cook set up a couple of precarious benches and laid a wide board thereon. Mose remarked it.
"A table! Seems to me that's a little hifalutin'."
"So it is, but times are changing."
"I reckon the range on the Arickaree is about wiped out."
"Yes. We had a couple of years with rain a-plenty, and that brought a boom in settlement; everything along the river was homesteaded, and so I retreated—the range was overstocked anyhow. This time I climbed high. I reckon I'm all right now while I live. They can't raise co'n in this high country, and not much of anything but grass. They won't bother us no mo'. It's a good cattle country, but a mighty tough range to ride, as you'll find. I thought I knew what rough riding was, but when it comes to racin' over these granite knobs, I'm jest a little too old. I'm getting heavy, too, you notice."