They had loaded up pretty well with "tanglefoot," and they were doing some very loud talking.
But when they saw the young deadshot they became suddenly silent.
"Hello!" called out Wild, speaking in his cool and easy way. "So you are going back to the ranch, eh?"
"Yes," answered the one he had handled so roughly. "I reckon we've about had our spree, so we'll go back now."
"How far is your ranch from here?" queried Wild, as he stepped up closer to them.
"About thirty miles, I reckon," was the reply.
"Why, I heard there were no ranches within a hundred miles of here. That's mighty queer."
"Whoever told yer that don't know nothin' about this part of ther country, I reckon."
"Well, it was the boss of the saloon who told us. Perhaps he isn't much acquainted around here."
Neither of them said anything to this, but went on buckling up their saddle-girths.