thorn rubbed the palms of his hands together, Maison smirked, and
Dale's eyes glowed with satisfaction.

Dale got up and looked at the man who had brought the information.

"All right, Morley," he said with a grin. "Get going; we'll meet up
with Sanderson at Devil's Hole."

CHAPTER XIX

A QUESTION OF BRANDS

Trailing a herd of cattle through a strange wild country is no
sinecure. There was not a man in the Double A outfit who expected an
easy time in trailing the herd to Las Vegas, for it was a rough, grim
country, and the men were experienced.

Wild cattle are not tractable; they have an irritating habit of
obstinately insisting on finding their own trail, and of persisting in
vagaries that are the despair of their escort.

The Double A herd was no exception. On a broad level they behaved
fairly well, though always requiring the attention of the men; but in
the broken sections of country through which they passed,
heart-breaking effort was required of the men to keep them headed in
the right direction.

The men of the outfit had little sleep during the first two days of the
drive. Nights found them hot, tired, and dusty, but with no prospect
of an uninterrupted sleep. Still there was no complaint.

On the third night, the herd having been driven about forty miles, the
men began to show the effects of their sleepless vigil.

They had bedded the herd down on a level between some hills, near a
rocky ford over which the waters of a little stream trickled.

Buck and Andy were on their ponies, slowly circling the herd, singing
to the cattle, talking to them, using all their art and persuasion to
induce the herd to cease the restless "milling" that had begun with the
effort to halt for the night.

Around the camp fire, which had been built at the cook's orders, were
Sanderson, Carter, Bud, Sogun, Soapy, and the Kid. Carter stood at a
little distance from the fire, watching the herd.

"That's a damned nervous bunch we've got, boys," he called to the other
men. "I don't know when I've seen a flightier lot. It wouldn't take
much to start 'em!"

"We'll have our troubles gettin' them through Devil's Hole," declared
Soapy. Soapy, so called because of his aversion to the valuable toilet
preparation so necessary to cleanliness, had a bland, ingenuous face
and perplexed, inquiring eyes. He was a capable man, however, despite
his pet aversion, and there was concern in his voice when he spoke.

"That's