t," MacRae admitted. "But how are we going to help it?
We'll just have to grin and tough it out."

"I'll tell you how we'll help it," I proposed recklessly, shouting to
make myself heard above the noisy wind. "We can go down and tackle that
bull-train we saw pulling along the foot of the ridge. They'll know
we're on the dodge, but that won't make any difference to them. I know
nearly every bull-whacker that freights out of Benton, and they're a
pretty white bunch. If it's Baker's outfit, especially, we'll be welcome
as flowers in May. You said they'd likely camp at that spring--Ten Mile,
isn't it? What d'ye think? Shall we go down and take a chance? I sure
don't like the look of things up here. It's going to be a rip-snorter of
a night, once it cuts loose."

"I'm ready to go against nearly anything, right now," MacRae frankly
owned. "If you think it's worth trying, why, it's a go with me."

"Let's drift, then," I declared; and straightway we turned our horses
broadside to the wind and tore away for Ten Mile Spring and the
creature comforts I knew were to be had at the white-sheeted wagons we
saw crawling slowly along the Stony Crossing trail late that afternoon.

As Mac had calculated, the freight-train was camped at the Spring; and
it was a mighty good thing for us that MacRae knew that country so well
or we would never have found them, short of riding our horses to a
standstill. Long before we got there the deep-throated thunder was
growling over us, and the clouds spat occasional flurries of rain.

We made the freight camp, however, just as the storm cut loose in deadly
earnest. Luckily for me, it was Baker's outfit. I took a long chance,
and stalked boldly in. And here I was treated to a surprise, one that
afforded both MacRae and me considerable food for thought; Horner, the
wagon-boss, a man I knew well, frankly declared that no one at Fort
Walsh had heard that we were accused of robbery and murder. For that
matter, he said, he didn't care a tinker's dam if we were; he had grub
and bedding and we were welcome to both.

So with this assurance of good-will we picketed our horses close by the
circle of wagons--where we could get to them quickly should any of
Lessard's troop happen into the camp--and prepared to devour the supper
Horner's good-natured cook bestirred himself to make ready. As we filled
our plates and squatted under the canvas that sheltered the cook's
Dutch-oven layout, a man under the hind end of