“Well, we can’t miss each other if we all make for that point. And if you don’t arrive by noon, I’ll go right on to Rawlins by the western road, and lodge our location papers. I’ll know you have Bledsoe and Grady trapped and are holding the ground.”
“Sounds feasible,” said Roderick. “But first of all we’ve got to tear down these fraudulent location notices and put our own up again.” He pointed to one of the corner stakes. “Just look—these claim-jumpers came provided with regular printed forms.”
“Well, go ahead with that right now,” said Grant. “No doubt the papers have been changed too down on the Major’s ground. When you’re through with that job, follow the trail up the canyon. Now I’m off for my skis, and then for the road over the hills. Good-by. Take care of yourselves. Good-by.”
And down the valley they heard his voice singing the song of the mountain trail:
“As I was coming down the road,
Tired team and a heavy load,
I cracked my whip and the leader sprung
And the off horse stepped on the wagon tongue.”
Then his figure disappeared round a bend, and all again was still.
But Bledsoe and Grady had taken their time in ascending the canyon. But at last they reached the impasse that had brought Buell Hampton and Roderick to a halt the previous evening and caused them to retrace their steps as the tracks revealed. Just as they were discussing whether it might not be necessary for them also to turn back, a deer dashed wildly past them on the narrow bench where they stood—so close that they might have almost touched it with an outstretched hand.