' Staked
Plain as I have, but I've had every other place searched for miles
around. Th' men of all th' ranches have been scoutin' an' th' Plain is
th' only place left. Them rustlers has got to be found if we have to dig
to hell for them. They've taken th' pot so many times that they reckons
they owns it, an' we've got to at least make a bluff at drawin' cards.
Mebby they're at th' bottom of th' Pecos," here he smiled faintly, "but
wherever they are, we've got to find them. I want to holler 'Keno."

"If you finds where they hangs out come away instanter," here his face
hardened and his eyes narrowed, "for it'll take more than yu three
to deal with them th' way I'm a-hankerin' for. Come right back to th'
Double Arrow, send me word by one of their punchers an' get all the rest
you can afore I gets there. It'll take me a day to get th' men together
an' to reach yu. I'm goin' to use smoke signals to call th' other
ranches, so there won't be no time lost. Carry all th' water yu can pack
when yu leaves th' Double Arrow an' don't depend none on cactus juice.
Yu better take a pack horse to carry it, an' yore grub--yu can shoot it
if yu have to hit th' trail real hard."

The three riders felt of their accouterments, said "So long," and
cantered off for the pack horse and extra ammunition. Then they rode
toward the Double Arrow, stopping at Cowan's long enough to spend some
money, and reached the Double Arrow at nightfall. Early the next morning
they passed the last line-house and, with the profane well-wishes of
its occupants ringing in their ears, passed onto one of Nature's worst
blunders--the Staked Plain.

CHAPTER XVIII. The Search Begins

As the sun arose it revealed three punchers riding away from
civilization. On all sides, stretching to the evil-appearing horizon,
lay vast blotches of dirty-white and faded yellow alkali and sand.
Occasionally a dwarfed mesquite raised its prickly leaves and rustled
mournfully. With the exception of the riders and an occasional Gila
monster, no life was discernible. Cacti of all shapes and sizes reared
aloft their forbidding spines or spread out along the sand. All was
dead, ghastly; all was oppressive, startlingly repellent in its sinister
promise; all was the vastness of desolation.

Hopalong knew this portion of the desert for ten miles inward--he had
rescued straying cattle along its southern rim--but once beyond that
limit they would have to trust to chance and their own ab