“Shore an' easy,” responded Roy, quickly. “I jest met up with some greaser sheep-herders drivin' a big flock. They've come up from the south an' are goin' to fatten up at Turkey Senacas. Then they'll drive back south an' go on to Phenix. Wal, it's muddy weather. Now you break camp quick an' make a plain trail out to thet sheep trail, as if you was travelin' south. But, instead, you ride round ahead of thet flock of sheep. They'll keep to the open parks an' the trails through them necks of woods out here. An', passin' over your tracks, they'll hide 'em.”
“But supposin' Anson circles an' hits this camp? He'll track me easy out to that sheep trail. What then?”
“Jest what you want. Goin' south thet sheep trail is downhill an' muddy. It's goin' to rain hard. Your tracks would get washed out even if you did go south. An' Anson would keep on thet way till he was clear off the scent. Leave it to me, Milt. You're a hunter. But I'm a hoss-tracker.”
“All right. We'll rustle.”
Then he called the girls to hurry.
CHAPTER VIII
Once astride the horse again, Helen had to congratulate herself upon not being so crippled as she had imagined. Indeed, Bo made all the audible complaints.
Both girls had long water-proof coats, brand-new, and of which they were considerably proud. New clothes had not been a common event in their lives.
“Reckon I'll have to slit these,” Dale had said, whipping out a huge knife.