d over one shoulder, the rest of him
stripped down to breechclout and moccasins, padded up to Hilario Trinfan
and spoke in the guttural Pima. The mustanger translated.

"The horses are still there. But there is a camp of two men on the north
slope above the canyon. Both men are Anglos. They are armed with rifles
and take turns watching."

"Can we reach a place from where we can read the brands on the horses?"
Drew asked.

Trinfan questioned the Pima.

"_Si._ But you can not go there by day. You must go in at dusk, wait out
the night, and then see what you could in the early morning. Leave before
sunup. Otherwise the watchers may be able to locate you. He says"--Trinfan
smiled--"that _he_ could go at high noon and would not be seen. But for a
white man is a different matter."

"Waste a whole day jus' waitin'!" Anse protested.

"_Senor_, when one balances time against death, then I would say time is
the better choice," Hilario replied. "But this day will not be wasted. If
any watch us--as well as those horses--they will see us about our business
and will have no doubt that we hunt wild horses, not stolen ones."

So Drew and Anse joined the mustangers' hunting. To Anse this was
something he had done before. Drew remembered that the Texan had been
working with just such a hunting party when his family had been wiped out
by the Comanches in '59. But to Drew it was a new experience and he was
deeply intrigued by what he saw and the reasons for such action.

All they sighted of the Pinto's now thoroughly thirsty band was the stud
himself and a black mare--La Bruja--looking down from a vantage point high
on a rocky rim. And the hunters did not try to reach them, knowing that
all the wild ones would be long gone before they could reach that lookout.

"This is the fourth day." Hilario Trinfan sat his buckskin at the water
hole, watched Teodoro make careful adjustment of the blankets tied on the
bushes. "They will be wild with thirst. Tomorrow the blankets will be
taken down. There will be no sign of man here. By mid-afternoon the mares
will be ready to fight past the Pinto for water. He can not hold them
away. So, they will come and drink--too much. Perhaps he will come, too. If
he does"--Trinfan snapped his fingers--"I shall be waiting with a rifle. We
take no more chances with that one! Anyway, the mares will be heavy and
slow with all the water in their bellies. They can be herded into our
trap. Then he will come,