"Where are the rest of the men?" Lee asked.
"Watching the fires an' seeing no more don't get started."
Then Lee told him of Judith. Carson's good eye opened wide with interest. Carson's bruised lips sought to form for a whistle which managed to give them the air of a maidenly pout.
"He had the nerve!" he muttered. "Trevors had the nerve! Bud, we ought to make a little call on that gent."
Then, seeing Lee's face, Carson realized that anything he might have to remark on this score was superfluous. Lee had already thought of that.
They roped a couple of the wandering horses, improvised hackamores from the rope cut in two, and went to meet Judith. Carson snatched eagerly at her hand and squeezed it and looked inexpressible things from his one useful eye. He gave his saddled horse to her, watched her and Lee ride on to the ranch, and sent Tommy to the old cabin for another rope, while he rounded up some more horses in a narrow cañon for Burkitt and Hampton.
"You damn' fool," he said growlingly to Hampton, "look what you've done."
"Of course I'm a damn fool," replied Hampton, by now his old cheerful self. "I've apologized to Judith and Lee and Burkitt. I apologize to you. I'll tell you confidentially that I'm a sucker and a Come-on-Charlie. I haven't got the brains of a jack-rabbit."
Carson went away grumbling. But for the first time he felt a vague respect for Pollock Hampton.
"He'll be a real man some day," thought Carson, "if the fool-killer don't pick him off first."