y mounts furnished; you must
provide your own.

Drew discovered the black gelding an increasing problem, but at least
the horse provided transportation, and he tried to save the animal as
best he could. Though when it was impossible to unsaddle, when one had
to ride--and did--some twenty hours out of twenty-four, there was not
much the most experienced horseman could do to relieve his mount.

Drew pulled up beside Kirby as he returned from a flank scout. The Texan
had dropped to the rear of the small troop, holding his horse to not
much more than a walk. Now and then he glanced to the receding length of
the road as if in search of someone.

"Where's Boyd?" Drew had ridden along the full length of the company and
nowhere had he seen that blond head.

"Jus' what I'm wonderin'." Kirby came to a complete halt. "I came back
a little while ago, and nobody's seen him."

Drew pulled in beside the other. His horse's head hung low as the
gelding blew in gusty snorts. He tried to remember when he had seen Boyd
last and when he did, that memory was not too encouraging.

"With Hilders ... and Cambridge ..." he said softly.

"Yeah." Kirby's thought seemed to match his. "Hilder's mare is jus'
about beat, an' Boyd rides light; that bay he got is holdin' up like a
corn-fed stud."

"They were talkin' to him when I went out on point." Drew followed his
own line of thought. "And he won't listen to me--"

"It don't foller that because you advise a hombre for his own good, he's
goin' to take kindly to your interest in him," the Texan observed. "You
tell him Hilders an' Cambridge are wearin' skunk stripes, an' he's apt
to claim 'em both as compadres. Suppose he don't come in when we bed
down; he coulda jus' cut his picket rope an' drifted, as far as we can
prove."

"Not if his bay turns up with one of them on top," Drew replied.

"Them two are of the curly wolf breed." Kirby shifted his newly acquired
Enfield. "No tellin' as how they would join up with us again did they
make such a switch; might figure as how they could make it better time
driftin' on their own."

The Texan had put his own fear into words. Drew pointed the gelding back
down the road and booted the animal into a trot. A moment later he heard
more drumming hoofs behind him; Kirby was following.

"This ain't your trouble," Drew reminded him.

"No, maybe it ain't. But then, me, I'm jus' a rough string rider from
way back, an' this may end in a smoke-up. Odds seem