"Much obliged to meet you," grinned Buck as he shook hands.
They mounted and rode toward the notch in the hills that had been pointed
out to the ranger. The moon was up; and a cold, silvery light flooded the
plain. Seen in this setting, the great, painted desert held more of
mystery, of beauty, and less of the dead monotony that glared endlessly
from arid, barren reaches. The sky of stars stretched infinitely far, and
added to the effect of magnitude.
The miles slipped behind them as they moved forward, hour after hour,
their horses holding to the running walk that is the peculiar gait of the
cow country. They rode in silence, with the loose seat and straight back
of the vaquero. Except the ranger, all were dressed for riding--Flatray in
corduroys and half-knee laced boots; his men in overalls, chaps, flannel
shirts, and the broad-brimmed sombrero of the Southwest. All four were
young men; but there was an odd difference in the expressions of their
faces.
Jackson and Lane had the hard-lined faces, with something grim and stony
in them, of men who ride far and hard with their lives in their hands. The
others were of a higher type. Flatray's dark eyes were keen, bold, and
restless. One might have guessed him a man of temperament, capable of any
extremes of conduct--often the victim of his own ungovernable whims and
passions. Just as he looked a picture of all the passions of youth run to
seed, so the ranger seemed to show them in flower. There was something
fine and strong and gallant in his debonair manner. His warm smile went
out to a world that pleased him mightily.
They rode steadily, untired and untiring. The light of dawn began to
flicker from one notched summit to another. Out of the sandy waste they
came to a water hole, paused for a drink, and passed on. For the delay of
half an hour might mean the escape of their prey.
They came into the country of crumbling mesas and painted cliffs, of
hillsides where greasewood and giant cactus struggled from the parched
earth. This they traversed until they came to plateaus, terminating in
foothills, crevassed by gorges deep and narrow. The cañons grew steeper,
rock ridges more frequent. Gradually the going became more difficult.
Trails they seldom followed. Washes, with sides like walls, confronted
them. The ponies dropped down and clambered up again like mountain goats.
Gradually they were ascending into the upper country, which led to the
wild stretches where the outlaws lurked. In these watersheds were heavy
pine forests, rising from the gulches along the shoulders of the peaks.