Reckon I wouldn't," replied Dale. "Thanks all the same."

"What's goin' on up in the woods?"

"Plenty of turkey an' deer. Lots of bear, too. The Indians have worked
back on the south side early this fall. But I reckon winter will come
late an' be mild."

"Good! An' where 're you headin' from?"

"'Cross-country from my camp," replied Dale, rather evasively.

"Your camp! Nobody ever found that yet," declared Beasley, gruffly.

"It's up there," said Dale.

"Reckon you've got that cougar chained in your cabin door?" queried
Beasley, and there was a barely distinguishable shudder of his muscular
frame. Also the pupils dilated in his hard brown eyes.

"Tom ain't chained. An' I haven't no cabin, Beasley."

"You mean to tell me that big brute stays in your camp without bein'
hog-tied or corralled!" demanded Beasley.

"Sure he does."

"Beats me! But, then, I'm queer on cougars. Have had many a cougar trail
me at night. Ain't sayin' I was scared. But I don't care for that brand
of varmint.... Milt, you goin' to stay down awhile?"

"Yes, I'll hang around some."

"Come over to the ranch. Glad to see you any time. Some old huntin'
pards of yours are workin' for me."

"Thanks, Beasley. I reckon I'll come over."

Beasley turned away and took a step, and then, as if with an
after-thought, he wheeled again.

"Suppose you've heard about old Al Auchincloss bein' near petered out?"
queried Beasley. A strong, ponderous cast of thought seemed to emanate
from his features. Dale divined that Beasley's next step would be to
further his advancement by some word or hint.

"Widow Cass was tellin' me all the news. Too bad about old Al," replied
Dale.

"Sure is. He's done for. An' I'm sorry--though Al's never been square--"

"Beasley," interrupted Dale, quickly, "you can't say that to me. Al
Auchincloss always was the whitest an' squarest man in this sheep
country."

Beasley gave Dale a fleeting, dark glance.

"Dale, what you think ain't goin' to influence feelin' on this range,"
returned Beasley, deliberately. "You live in the woods an'--"

"Reckon livin' in the woods I might think--an' know a whole lot,"
interposed Dale, just as deliberately. The group of men exchanged
surprised glances. This was Milt Dale in different aspect. And Beasley
did not conceal a puzzled surprise.

"About what--now?" he asked, bluntly.

"Why, about what's goin' on in Pine," replied Dale.

Some of the men laughed.

"Shore lots goin' on--a