Brand Blotters

Flatray swung around Old Baldy through the sparse timber that edged its

roots. He knew this country well; for he had run cattle here, and combed

the draws and ridges on the annual spring and fall round-ups.

There was no trail to follow. Often the lay of the land forced him to a

detour; for it was rough with washes, with matted cactus, and with a thick

growth of netted mesquite and underbrush. But true as the needle of a

compass, he turned back always to the direction he was following. He had

the instinct for direction, sharpened almost to infallibility by the

experience his work had given him.

So, hour after hour, he swung forward, pushing his horse over the ground

in a sort of running walk, common to the plains. Sunset found him climbing

from the foothills into the mountains beyond. Starlight came upon him in a

saddle between the peaks, still plodding up by winding paths to the higher

altitudes that make the ridge of the continent's backbone.

The moon was up long before he struck a gulch spur that led to Elkhorn

Cañon. Whether he would be in time or not--assuming that he had guessed

aright as to the destination of the outlaws--he could not tell. It would

be, at best, a near thing. For, though he had come more directly, they had

followed a trail which made the going much faster. Fast as the cow pony

could pick its way along the rock-strewn gulch, he descended, eye and ear

alert to detect the presence of another human being in this waste of

boulders, of moonlit, flickering shadows, of dark awesome peaks.

His quick ear caught the faintest of sounds. He slipped from the saddle

and stole swiftly forward to the point where the gulch joined the main

cañon. Voices drifted to him--the sound of careless laughter, wafted by

the light night wind. He had missed the outlaws by scarce a hundred yards.

There was nothing for it but to follow cautiously. As he was turning to go

back for his horse the moon emerged from behind a cloud and flooded the

cañon with a cold, silvery light. It showed Jack a man and a horse

standing scarce twenty yards from him. The man had his back to him. He had

dismounted, and was tightening the cinches of his saddle.

Flatray experienced a pang of disappointment. He was unarmed. His second

thought sent him flying noiselessly back to his horse. Deftly he unloosed

the rope which always hung coiled below the saddle horn. On tiptoe he ran

back to the gulch mouth, bearing to the right, so as to come directly

opposite the man he wanted. As he ran he arranged the lariat to his

satisfaction, freeing the loop and making sure that the coil was not

bound. Very cautiously he crept forward, taking advantage for cover of a

boulder which rose from the bed of the gulch.