“It was Jack Hartwell,” said Hill, trying to pump some air into his lungs. “He tried to sneak through, and when I stopped him he rode me down. The dirty pup has gone over to the sheep.”
“Gives us a good chance at him,” said Allen. “I wasn’t so sure about him before. We’ll have to pass the word. Sure yuh ain’t hurt, Gene?”
“Not bad enough to make me miss him, if he ever shows up here again.”
Once out of range of Hill’s rifle, Jack drew up, with the sudden realization that he had given them plenty of circumstantial proof that he was a spy. He knew that Hill would lose no time in spreading the report that he had forced his way through the dead-line. He laughed bitterly at the tricks of fate, but swore that somebody would pay dearly.
Then he realized that he was in a precarious position. The sheepmen would be looking for mounted men. Jack knew that they would be just as alert as the cattlemen; so he dismounted and went on slowly, leading his horse. There were plenty of sheep bedded down on the slopes of the hills, and they bleated softly at his approach.
Jack had made a guess as to the probable location of the main camp. It was a wide swale on a little tributary of Slow Elk Creek, where there was plenty of fuel and water, and also a bed ground for thousands of sheep. He led his horse out on to the rim of this swale, where he could see the lights of the camp below him.
There were several camp-fires, and as he came closer he could see the outlines of several camp-tenders’ wagons. It was a big outfit and this was their main camp. Several men were playing cards on a blanket stretched in the light of one of the fires, and behind them several tents had been pitched. The men were all wearing holstered guns, and behind them, leaning against the guy rope of a tent, were several rifles.
Jack left his horse out beyond the firelight, and walked boldly into camp, coming in behind the players. Somehow he had slipped through the sheepmen’s line of guards. He stood near the front of a tent, listening closely. The players were so engrossed in their game that they made signs instead of sounds. One of them lifted his head and looked at Jack, but made no move to indicate that he did not recognize Jack as one of them.
A few minutes later, three men came walking into camp. One of them was a big man, walking empty handed, while the other two carried rifles. As they came into the light of the fires, Jack recognized Eph King. He was head and shoulders above the other men, bulking giant-like in the firelight.
His head was massive, with a deeply lined face, looking harsh and stern in the sidelights, which accentuated the rough contour of his features. The two men sauntered over to the card game, while Eph King, after a long glance out into the night, turned toward the tent and walked past Jack, without looking at him.