“He’ll be sleeping, Sam. Here’s the layout. One of the herders and the dogs will be with the sheep. We’ll slip right up to the wagon and capture Tait first thing. He’s a heavy sleeper—always was. Once we get him the rest will be easy.”
The Texan nodded. “Ought to go through as per plan if the sheep are far enough from the wagon.”
“They’ll be far enough away so that the dogs won’t bark at us.”
“Who is that?” cried Rogers, pointing to the trail below.
All of them with one consent stopped to watch the horseman riding up out of the darkness.
“It’s Hal Falkner,” Cole cried in a low voice.
“Falkner! What’s he doing here?” demanded McCoy. He whirled on Silcott. “Did you tell him where we were to-night, Larry?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You told him something—that Tait had crossed the dead line and was heading for Thunder Mountain.”
“I might have said that,” admitted Silcott a little sulkily.