"Yep. Tha's what we usually use."
"I'm speaking of another job. Let's get down from here. We might be seen."
"They couldn't hit us from the Steelman location. Too far," said Bob.
"And I don't reckon any one would try to do that."
"No, but they might get to wondering what we're doing up here."
"I'm wonderin' that myself," drawled Hart. "Most generally when I take a pasear it's on the back of a bronc. I ain't one of them that believes the good Lord made human laigs to be walked on, not so long as any broomtails are left to straddle."
Screened by the heavy mesquite below, Sanders unfolded his proposed plan of operations. Bob listened, and as Dave talked there came into Hart's eyes dancing imps of deviltry. He gave a subdued whoop of delight, slapped his dusty white hat on his thigh, and vented his enthusiasm in murmurs of admiring profanity.
"It may not work out," suggested his friend. "But if your information is correct and they come up the arroyo—"
"It's c'rect enough. Lemme ask you a question. If you was attacktin' us, wouldn't you come that way?"
"Yes."
"Sure. It's the logical way. Dug figures to capture our camp without firin' a shot. And he'd 'a' done it, too, if we hadn't had warnin'."