The corrals were choked with cattle.
Sky Line was ready for its drive.
On the last night before the start there was a peculiar tenseness in everything about the busy place. Kate Cathrew was everywhere. She saw what horses were ready for use, spoke sharply with every rider to make sure he knew what he was to do, and told Rod Stone once more to get out of the kitchen.
The boy laughed, but Minnie Pine glanced after her with smouldering eyes.
“She’s a devil—the Boss,” she told Josefa, “I hate her.”
After the early supper Caldwell, Provine, Basford and four others, saddled fresh horses and rode away.
It was dark of the moon—as it was always when Sky Line gathered beef—a soft windy dark, ideal for the concealment of riders, the disguising of sounds.
They dropped down the mountain at an angle, heading northwest to circle the end of Mystery, and they followed no trail.
They were all armed and all wore dark clothing.
The only point of light about them was the grey horse which Provine rode.