“I smell smoke,” said Hare.
“The boys must be at the spring,” rejoined Mescal.
“Maybe. I want to be sure who's there. We'll leave the trail and slip down through the woods to the left. I wish we could get down on the home side of the spring. But we can't; we've got to pass it.”
With many a pause to peer through openings in the pines Hare traversed a diagonal course down the slope, crossed the line of cedars, and reached the edge of the valley a mile or more above Silver Cup. Then he turned toward it, still cautiously leading Silvermane under cover of the fringe of cedars.
“Mescal, there are too many cattle in the valley,” he said, looking at her significantly.
“They can't all be ours, that's sure,” she replied. “What do you think?”
“Holderness!” With the word Hare's face grew set and stern. He kept on, cautiously leading the horse under the cedars, careful to avoid breaking brush or rattling stones, occasionally whispering to Wolf; and so worked his way along the curve of the woody slope till further progress was checked by the bulging wall of rock.
“Only cattle in the valley, no horses,” he said. “I've a good chance to cut across this curve and reach the trail. If I take time to climb up and see who's at the spring maybe the chance will be gone. I don't believe Dave and the boys are there.”
He pondered a moment, then climbed up in front of Mescal, and directed the gray out upon the valley. Soon he was among the grazing cattle. He felt no surprise to see the H brand on their flanks.
“Jack, look at that brand,” said Mescal, pointing to a white-flanked steer. “There's an old brand like a cross, Father Naab's cross, and a new brand, a single bar. Together they make an H!”