A moment later a third horseman came galloping across the valley from the river ford.
“On time, as usual, Kinneman,” said a voice that made the cattle king, Captain Osborn, and Hugh start with surprise.
“Thet’s what I am; an’ don’t you-alls furgit I’m powerful nigh used up,” growled the cowboy, in a surly tone.
Hugh started from his concealment, but Captain Osborn laid a restraining hand on his arm.
“You think, Dan, that we can handle them all right, do you?” asked the same rich voice that had spoken before.
“Bet yer life we kin,” ejaculated Dan Spencer, “an’ speakin’ plenty perlite to you’ns, I’m cal-kalatin’ in four days’ time we’ll have ‘em in the St. Louis market, same as t’other time, an’ we’ll do it sure, or I’ll git plenty hostile.”
“Well, Kinneman,” said the master voice, “as soon as the last steer is across the ford, order your assistants to return at once, and you go with them. To-morrow morning when it is discovered that some cattle have been stolen, select three tried and true assistants and start out as usual on a hunt for the cattle thieves. Of course you know how to manage the balance of it.”
At this moment, four determined men, with leveled guns, advanced on the party.
“Throw up your hands,” shouted Captain Osborn, in thundering tones, “or, by the Eternal, we’ll shoot you down like dogs.”
Both Dan Spencer and Bill Kinneman threw themselves into their saddles quick as lightning, and sinking their spurs deep into the sides of their ponies, bounded away like arrows from well-bent bows, covering their retreat with a cloud of dust. The other cattle thief stood perfectly still, resting an arm on his pony’s neck, looking away toward the river, where Kinneman and Spencer were riding at breakneck speed. Four shots, from repeating carbines sang out on the night air, but they missed the fleeing men.