"Not so many on one trip. Perhaps fifteen if we have good luck. A big herd leaves a big trail."
"There's an old corral up near the Government elevation monument," said Douglas. "It's all overgrown with bushes and young aspens so's I don't think one person out of twenty, knows it's there. Maybe we could corral 'em there?"
Charleton gave Douglas a quick glance. "How'd you come to know about it?"
"I happened on it last summer tracking a bear."
"That's what I planned to use," nodded Charleton. "We'll make a real cowman out of you yet. So you're ready to go, Doug?"
Douglas' eyes were blazing. "Go! You couldn't pay me enough to keep me away! Nothing ever happens in this old valley."
"All right! Be here by nine o'clock to-morrow night, wearing chaps. It'll be rough riding and that Moose of yours will be quite considerably broke by the time we get back, Doug. I'll supply the grub."
"Fine!" said Scott, rising. "If that's all, I'll be running along. Stage was late to-night and the crowd'll be there getting mail. I'll be with you on time, Charleton."
"Me too!" exclaimed Douglas, following Scott.
Weary as he was, Douglas was long in getting to sleep that night. Charleton Falkner was deeply admired by all the young men of Lost Chief. Not only was he of the ultra-sophisticated type, dear to adolescence, not only was he by far the cleverest hunter in the valley, but, most important of all, his name was whispered in connection with horse and cattle deals, never called questionable by Lost Chief but always mentioned with a wink and a chuckle for their adroitness. To have been asked by Charleton to go as a partner on one of his mysterious trips was intoxicating enough to take the sting out of the fact that Scott met Judith that evening at the post-office and rode home with her.