"They maybe met on the other side of this butte somewhere. And the tracks were
made early this morning, I should say. How about it, Applehead?"
"Well, they look fresher 'n what we bin follerin' before," Applehead admitted.
"But I don't like this here move uh theirn, and I'm tellin' yuh so. The way--"
"I don't like anything about 'em," snapped Luck, standing in his stirrups as
though that extra three inches would let him see over the hill. "And I don't
like this tagging along behind, either. You take your boys and follow those
tracks to the right, Applehead. I and my bunch will go this other way. And
RIDE! We can't be so awfully much behind. If they meet, we'll meet where they
do. If they scatter, we'll have to scatter too, I reckon. But get'em is the
word, boys!"
"And where," asked Applehead with heavy irony, while he pulled at his
mustache, "do yuh calc'late we'll git t'gether agin if we go scatterin' out?"
Luck looked at him and smiled his smile. "We aren't any of us tenderfeet,
exactly," he said calmly. "We'll meet at the jail when we bring in our men, if
we don't meet anywhere else this side. But if you land your men, come back to
that camp where we lost the horses.
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