d his companions. Seated around their fire,
smoking with deep content after a heavy meal of fresh buffalo meat, Hank
began to push his foot back and forth on the ground, making deeper and
deeper, longer and longer, the groove his moccasin heel was slowly
wearing in the soft earth. Finally his foot touched his companion's knee
but, without pausing, kept wearing down the groove.

"Th' geese went over early this year," he said, looking up at the starry
sky. "Reckon we'll have th' hot weather a leetle ahead o' time on th'
Dry Route."

Tom did not change a muscle as the familiar, warning sentence struck his
ears. "Yes," he replied. "Be glad when I gits inter Santa Fe, with th'
cool mountains all around. Reckon you'll spend most o' your time playin'
_monte_, an' be clean busted when it's time ter hit th' trail fer
Bent's."

Hank laughed softly. "Did I hear ye say Jim Ogden had some good likker?"
he asked.

"That's what I said."

"'Tain't none o' that thar Taos lightnin'?" skeptically inquired Hank.

"How could it be, him jest a-comin' from Missouri?"

"Wall," chuckled Hank, slowly rising. "Reckon I'll wander over an' see
fer myself. Jim must be considerable lonesome, 'bout now."

"Must be, with only Zeb, Alonzo, Enoch, and a passel o' them fool
tenderfeet a-settin' 'round his fire," snorted Tom. "Go ahead an' git
yer likker; I'll wait fer ye hyar."

It was only a few minutes later when Hank returned, shaking his head.
"All gone," he mourned, and sat down again, regarding the dying embers.
"Jest my luck."

Tom laughed. "Yer better off without it," he replied, and communed with
his thoughts.

Minutes passed in reflective silence and then Jim Ogden loomed up beside
them. "Come on over," he invited, grinning. "Thar warn't no use showin'
a bottle with them thirsty greenhorns settin' 'round ter lick it up. Now
that thar gone, we'll pass it 'round."

Hank looked knowingly at his partner as he hastily arose, and the three
went off together. When half way to the other fire Jim spoke in a low
voice.

"He war thar, Hank; layin' in that little gully, watchin' ye like ye war
pizen." He turned to Tom. "Shall we go an' drag him out?"

"No," answered Tom. "Let him think we don't know nothin' about it. Him
an' his trail inter Santa Fe! Reckons mebby that if them barefoot
soldiers try ter take us in front o' th' caravan they'll get a good
lickin'; but if he can coax us off from th' rest, he kin run us inter an
ambush. If tha