head, who knew the country
fairly well, and of Luck, who did not know the country, but who knew
that he meant to overhaul Ramon Chavez and Bill Holmes, go where they
would, and take them back to jail. If they could ride across this barren
stretch, said Luck to Applehead, he and his bunch could certainly follow
them.

"Well, this is kinda takin' chances," Applehead observed soberly,
"unless Ramon, he knows whar's the water-holes. If he does hit water
regular, I calc'late we kin purty nigh foller his lead. They's things
I don't like about the way this here trail is leading out this way, now
I'm tellin' yuh! Way we're goin', we'll be in the Seven Lakes country
'fore we know it. Looks to me like them greasers must stand in purty
well with the Navvies--'n' if they do, it'll be dang hard pullin' to git
'em away 'n! outa here. 'N' if they don't stand in, they'd oughta bore
more west than what they're doin'. Looks dang queer to me, now I'm
tellin' ye!"

"Well, all I want is to overtake them. We'll do it, too. The little
grain these horses get is showing its worth right now," Luck cheered
him. "They're keeping up better than I was afraid they would. We've
got that advantage--a Mexican don't as a rule grain his horses, and the
chances are that Ramon thought more about the gold than he did about
carrying horse-feed. We can hold on longer than he can, Applehead."

"We can't either," Applehead disputed, "because if Ramon takes a notion
he'll steal fresh horses from the Injuns."

"I thought you said he stood in with the Injuns," Weary spoke up from
the ambling group, behind. "You're kinda talkin' in circles, ain't you,
Applehead?"

"Well, I calc'late yuh jest about got to talk in circles to git
anywheres near Ramon," Applehead retorted, looking back at the others.
"They's so, dang many things he MIGHT be aimin' to do, that I ain't been
right easy in my mind the last day or two, and I'm tellin' ye so. 'S
like a storm--I kin smell trouble two days off; that's mebby why I'm
still alive an' able to fork a boss. An' I'm tellin' you right now, I
kin smell trouble stronger'n a polecat under the chicken-house!"

"Well, by cripes, let 'er come!" Big Medicine roared cheerfully,
inspecting a battered plug of "chewin'" to see where was the most
inviting corner in which to set his teeth. "Me'n' trouble has locked
horns more'n once, 'n' I'd feel right lonesome if I thought our trails'd
never cross agin. Why, down in Coconino County--" He we