ed to close the border
when we set up that ambush. Meanwhile"--he glanced back--"Teodoro!"

"_Si, Don_ Cazar?"

"How far are we from your hunting-camp site?"

"Two, maybe three miles. Slow riding in the dark, _Don_ Cazar."

"We'll head there. That--except for the hole behind us which Bartolome will
cover--is the only water for miles. And we're between Kitchell and the
border spring. One thing he will have to have is water. We stake out the
pools and sooner or later they will come to us."

It made sense, but still Drew was impatient. Out there one of Kitchell's
men, or perhaps the outlaw himself, was riding Shiloh. The fact that
Rennie's plan seemed a gamble did not make it any easier to follow. But
the Kentuckian could think of nothing better to offer.

The moon was rising as they came to the water hole near the mustangers'
camp. Men and animals drank together, and when Drew dismounted his
weariness hit--hard. Fatigue was a gray cloud in his brain, a weight on
arms, legs, body. Voices around him sounded faint and far away as he
steadied himself with a grasp on the stirrup leathers and fought not only
to keep on his feet but awake.

"What's the matter with you, boy?"

Drew tried to lift his head, tried to summon words to answer that demand.
A sullen kind of pride made him release his hold and stand away from the
bay, only to reel back and bring up hard against a rock, grating his arm
painfully. He clung there for a moment and got out:

"Nothing a little sleep won't cure." He spoke into the dark outline of
Hunt Rennie. "I'm all right."

Drew made a painful effort, pulled himself away from the rock to fumble at
the cinches of the bay's saddle, only to be pushed aside.

"Steer him over there, Perse ... bed him down."

The Kentuckian's last scrap of protest leaked away. He hardly knew when a
blanket was pulled up over him as he lay in a rock niche, already drifting
into deep sleep.

Voices awoke him into the gray of early morning. The light was hardly
brighter than moonlight but he could make out Hunt Rennie, sitting
cross-legged, rifle to hand, while Chino Herrera squatted on his heels
before him. Chino had not been with them when they left the pass. And
there was Greyfeather, too. Their party had had reinforcements. Drew
pushed away the blanket and sat up, realizing he was stiff with cold. Fire
... hot coffee ... there was no sign of either. He yawned and jerked his
coat straight about him. His attention sud