ession, going toward a ridge
whose crest was fringed with dense, tangled shrubbery. Hollis was about
to reply to Norton's remark when he saw the latter's lips suddenly
straighten; saw his body stiffen as he drew himself erect in the saddle
and pulled his pony abruptly up. Surprised, Hollis also reined in and
sat silent, looking at Norton.

The latter's hand went to one of his ears, the fingers spreading out,
fan like. "Listen!" he warned sharply.

Hollis had been listening. A low rumble greeted his ears. He looked
suddenly upward at the sky, fearful that another storm, such as he had
encountered months before, might be forming. But the sky was cloudless.
He looked again at Norton. The latter's eyes shone brightly in the
moonlight as he leaned toward Hollis. The rumbling had grown more
distinct.

"It ain't a stampede," said Norton rapidly; "there wouldn't be anything
to stampede cattle on a night like this. An' them's cattle!"

It was about a hundred yards to the ridge toward which they had been
riding and Hollis saw Norton suddenly plunge the spurs into his pony's
flanks; saw the animal rush forward. He gave his own animal the spurs
and in an instant was at Norton's side, racing toward the ridge. The
range boss dismounted at the bottom, swiftly threw the reins over his
pony's head, and running stealthily toward the crest. Hollis followed
him. When he reached Norton's side the latter was flat on a rim rock at
the edge of a little cliff, behind some gnarled brush. Below them the
country stretched away for miles, level, unbroken, basking in the
moonlight. Hollis recognized the section as that through which he had
traveled on the night he had been overtaken by the storm--the big level
that led to Big Elk crossing, where he had met Dunlavey and his men that
night.

Looking out upon the plain he held his breath in amazement. During the
time he had been at the Circle Bar he had seen cattle running, but never
had he seen them run like this. About a quarter of a mile from the ridge
on which he and Norton stood rose a dust cloud--moving swiftly. But
ahead of the cloud, heads down, their horns tossing were a number of
cattle, perhaps fifty, racing furiously. They were running parallel with
the ridge and would probably pass it. Behind and flanking them raced
several cowboys, silent, driving with their quirts.

"Rustlers!" came Norton's voice from beside him. "They're headin' for
Big Elk!"

Hollis had brought his rifle, whi