"There's a-plenty off to the southwest," Haney told them. "I saw maybe fifty, sixty head in one bunch and glimpsed several other scattered bunches.

"It won't be easy," he added. "They're scattered wide, and there's still a good many buffalo among 'em who will stampede again at the slightest excuse. If they do, most of those d.a.m.n fool cows will go right along with them."

"We need more help," Orrin suggested, "but tomorrow we'll have the Ox helping us."

"I ain't in no shape to ride," the Ox muttered.

"If you want to eat," Orrin replied, "you'll ride. You can work with me. I think we understand each other mighty well."

The Ox glared but made no comment.

"We may be able to get some help," Shorty suggested. "This country isn't as empty as a body might think. I came on two sets of tracks today, both of them shod horses and none of them our horses."

Orrin knew he had been shying away from the thing that must be done. He had been avoiding the site of the stampede, and he knew why. If Tell and Tyrel were dead, he did not want to know it. Until he actually saw their bodies or some other evidence that proved them dead, he could still delude himself they were alive still.

"Tomorrow I am going over to check their last camp." Orrin glanced at the Ox. "You can show me where it was."

The Ox said nothing, sipping a cup of coffee, and Shorty smiled. "Ain't much to see," he said. "I was over there."

They waited, and he said, "I scouted that country some. The buffalo hit that camp goin' all out, and they just run everything right into the ground. But I don't think anybody was in the camp."

"What?" Orrin turned to stare. "Then where in G.o.d's name a" ?"

"They were with the cattle. They were moving them when the stampede hit them." He glanced at the Ox. "Wasn't that what you said? You were off on the flank?"

"I was." The Ox paused. "It was like I said. They were here, then they were gone, and the cattle with them. I heard one man scream. I've no idea who it was."

"Did you see any Indians?" Orrin asked.

The Ox hesitated. "Can't say I did. I heard whooping. I figured it was Indians, and I lit out."

"Haney, you and Shorty continue the roundup. The Ox and I will go over the site of the stampede before we settle down to rounding up cattle."

Orrin glanced at Baptiste. "You stay with the carts and keep your rifle handy. Any sign of trouble everybody closes in on the carts, do you hear? We need that grub."

It was a quiet night, and before daybreak they were in the saddle. Orrin, with the Ox beside him, rode down toward the site of the stampede.

The Ox turned in his saddle to look at Orrin. "You don't like me much, do you, Sackett?"

"No, I don't."

"When the right time comes, I'll take pleasure in beating your head in," the Ox said.

Orrin smiled. "Don't talk like a fool, man. You couldn't whip one side of me, and away down inside you know it"

The Ox was not amused. "n.o.body ever whipped me," he said, "and n.o.body can."

"Keep that thought. I want you to have it when I prove you wrong."

Orrin drew up, looking over the terrain before them. The shallow valley, if such it might be called, sloped away toward the south. The earth was still torn by charging hoofs. He glanced around, taking in the situation. The Ox stared at it, then looked away. "You know, Ox," Orrin said quietly, "you're a liar. Your whole story is a tissue of lies, from start to finish. Now where's your partner?"

The Ox stared at him, an ugly expression in his eyes. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, but you just called me a liar."

"That's right. I did call you a liar." He put up a hand. "Now don't be a d.a.m.ned fool and go for your gun. I'm a whole lot faster than you and a much better shot, and you'd be dead before you cleared leather.

"You boys bought yourselves a packet, d'you know that? If you're going to try to get away with something, why don't you pick on some greenhorns?"

The Ox was wary. He did not believe Orrin Sackett was faster than he, but neither did he want to be mistaken. It was a simple case. If he was wrong, he was dead.

"My brothers, William Tell and Tyrel, are two of the fastest men alive when it comes to handling six-shooters. I'm only a shade less good.

"Just a moment ago, I had a notion to let you go ahead and draw so I could kill you."

The Ox stared at him. "Then why didn't you if you're so fast?"

Orrin smiled. "Because I'd miss the pleasure of whipping you with my fists," he said. Orrin rested both hands on the pommel of his saddle. "You see, Ox, you've always been big, you've always been strong, you've always been able to either frighten or outmuscle anybody whose trail you crossed. So the truth is, you've never really had to learn to fight. You've never had to get up after being knocked down. You've never had to wipe the blood out of your eyes so you could see enough to keep fighting."

"You're not really a fighter, Ox, you're just a big, abnormally strong man who has had it all his own way for too long."

The Ox smiled. "Maybe I don't have to know how to fight," be said. "I just take hold and squeeze, and they scream. You can hear the bones break, Sackett. I will hear yours break."

Orrin looked around again. "Now where were you when the stampede started?"

The Ox pointed across the plain. "Over there. Tyrel Sackett was riding drag. That's why I am sure he is dead."

"What d'you mean?"

"They hit us on the flank, more than halfway back, and there was no way Tyrel could get out of there."

"Then I've misunderstood. I didn't know it was that way." Orrin paused. "What kind of a horse was Tye riding?"

"It was that line-back dun he favored. I remember that because he let Brandy a" "

"Who?"

"The kid a" Isom Brand was his name. We called him Brandy. He wasn't much. Some farm kid they taken up with. Anyway, I remember Tyrel rode the dun because he let Brandy have that little black."

Orrin was thinking. If Tyrel was on the dun, there was a chance. That line-back dun was a cutting horse and as quick on his feet as a cat.

If any horse alive could get out of the way of that stampede, it would be the dun.

For an hour he rode back and forth across the gra.s.sy plain where the herd had been when the buffalo came. He found the remnants of a body churned into earth, but there was no way of telling who it had been.

By nightfall, working farther and farther to the west and south, they had rounded up nearly five hundred head, among them the old brindle steer who had been the leader of the herd.

"One more day," he said by the fire that night. "Just one more day, and then we leave. We've no more time."

"I wonder," the Ox said, "what become of the Indians? The ones who were, as Tell put it, ridin' in our shadow?"

Orrin reached for the coffee pot and filled his cup, then several others. He put the pot down and looked across the fire at the Ox. "Something new has been added," he said pleasantly. "What Indians?"

The Ox explained. "Tell, he left meat for them a time or two. I never saw them myself. I don't reckon he did, either."

"That dead man?" Shorty asked. "Could he have been an Indian?"

"No, he was a white man. He was wearing boots. We found the heels."

It had to be one of them. Which one?

Chapter XIV.

Orrin Sackett was a careful man. He knew what he had to do, and he wanted to be about it, although, even more, he wanted to hunt for his brothers. Yet whatever else he was, he was a Sackett, and the Sacketts finished the jobs they started. Also, Tyrel and Tell, if alive, would know what he was doing and where he would be.

It was that certainty of each other that had helped them through many difficulties. They had set out to deliver cattle, and he would persist in the delivery. If Tyrel and Tell could, they would follow on and join up, and they might even be on ahead somewhere, waiting.

The situation was puzzling. The Ox was here, and they had seen what were the remains of at least one other man. According to the Ox, there had been seven, including the Chinese cook, so where were the other five?

One man could disappear easily, two almost as easily, but five, widely scattered men?

He turned his horse and rode back to the carts. The Ox rode alongside, saying nothing.

The country around was pretty wide open, and scanning it as they rode, he could see herds of antelope, most of them a mile or more away, and a good many buffalo, moving as they usually did in small herds that made up the larger group, feeding as they moved.

He could see nothing else. The antelope and buffalo moved as if no man was near them, and he was sure there was no one out there.

The mountains, if such they could be called, had to be the answer. Before they left the country, he was going to make one sweep through those hills. He knew he could see little in that time, but there was a chance, particularly if he brought an extra man or two.

Baptiste was with the carts when they rode up, his rifle at hand. Nearby, the cattle were gathered, grazing peacefully, seemingly glad to be back together again. Across the herd he could see Charlie Fleming coming in with a small bunch of cattle. Highpockets and Shorty were at the carts, both hunkered down by the fire with cups of coffee in their hands.

Haney looked up as Orrin swung down. "We've about cleaned her up," he said, "unless you're of a mind to take the carts south, set up a new camp, and round up what went on south.

"I saw cow tracks down thataway, so we know some went on south with the buffalo." He paused. "Odd thing. Shorty an' me, we come down into a low place over yonder, and we came up on about three hundred head, all bunched and pretty, all wearin' the Sackett road brand."

Orrin was filling his cup. He sipped his coffee. "See any tracks?"

"Uh-hub. Two riders, one of them carryin' mighty light. Fresh tracks, Mr. Sackett, like those cattle had been bunched within the last few hours."

"n.o.body around?"

"n.o.body. It doesn't make sense. A body would think they had been bunched a-purpose and just left for us."

"No use looking gift horses in the teeth. You brought them in?"

"You're durned right! The way I figure it, we've got a shade over nine hundred head."

"Good enough. We'll move out for the northwest tomorrow. We've lost a couple of hundred head, but we will just have to take the loss and run."

"You aimin' to look for Tell an' them?"

"Something's wrong, Haney. Five, six men missing with no sign, but somebody bunched those cows for us."

"Yes," he added, "you and me are going to take a ride into the Turtles. We couldn't cover the place in a month or more, but we can scout for tracks. If we see anything, we'll check it out. Otherwise, we'll get on with the job."

Fleming left the herd, bunching them a bit more as he circled back to the fire. He stepped down from the saddle.

"See any tracks?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, and cows are scarce, mighty scarce."

"We pull out tomorrow," Shorty said.

Fleming went to the fire, squatted on his heels, and held his cup, staring into the fire for a long minute. Then he filled his cup, avoiding the eyes of the Ox, who was staring at him.

"Good bunch of cattle," Fleming commented. "Makes a man want to get into the cow business."

Orrin threw the dregs on the ground. "Fleming, you come with Haney and me. Shorty, you stay close to the wagons with Baptiste unless you see some of the stock straying too far. But keep a rifle handy."

Orrin led the way up a dim trail into the trees. Here and there were dense stands of forest, then scatterd trees and meadows with frequent small lakes and pools. They scattered out, keeping within sight of one another but watching for tracks.

"Mr. Sackett?" Haney called out.

Orrin turned his horse and cantered over to where the tall man waited. Haney indicated the gra.s.s at his feet.

There was a place by a rotting log where a part of the gra.s.s was pressed down, and there were flecks of what appeared to be blood on the gra.s.s and the leaves. "Looks like somebody has been lyin' here, maybe a few days back."

"Horse tracks?"

"Don't see none. I reckon he was afoot. My guess would be he was bad hurt He got this far an' just collapsed."

"Then what?"

"Well, there's a track." He pointed to their north. "I figure he came out of it and started on."

Leading their horses, they followed the tracks. Charlie Fleming was some distance away, and Orrin stood for a moment, watching him. He seemed to be studying the ground as he moved.

"Haney," Orrin said, "walk careful. If this is some of our boys, and they're hurt, they'll be wary of trouble."

"I soldiered with Tell, remember? He never shot at anything he couldn't see. He wasn't one of those d.a.m.ned fools who heard a noise and just blasted away."

The trail was dim and old. Whoever the wounded man was, he made over two hundred yards before he fell. They found the place where he went to his knees, then had fallen forward on his face. There had been a struggle to rise; then the fallen man had subsided and lay still for some time.

However, they found no blood on the gra.s.s. Orrin looked carefully around, searching the brush, the trees, and the gra.s.s for some indication of movement. He saw none. He looked around for Charlie Fleming, but the rider was nowhere in sight.