We were camped at the Bad Hills when trouble erupted suddenly. Brandy had come in for coffee, and Gilcrist sat by the fire with the Ox, preparing to go on night guard.

Brandy was still limping from the fall he had taken during the stampede. Orrin an' me had come in from scoutin', and Orrin was on the ground stripping the gear from his horse. We were back under the trees and out of sight of the camp. Lin was at the fire, and Baptiste was repairing a lariat.

Cap and Haney were coming in; Tyrel, Fleming, and Shorty were with the cattle.

Brandy was limping a little. He'd been thrown and hurt during the stampede but said nothing of it, and we'd never have known except that once in a while, when he'd been in the saddle for a long time, you'd see him favoring the bad leg. Most of us were banged up more or less, but we taken it as part of the day's work, as he did.

It was the Ox who started it. "What's the matter, mama's boy? Tryin' to make somebody think you're hurt?"

"Nothing of the kind. I do my share."

The Ox took up a stick from the pile gathered for the fire. "Where's it hurt, boy? There?" He hit him a crack just below the hip bone.

Brandy turned on him. "You put that stick down, Ox. And you lay off, d'you hear?"

"Or else what?" The Ox sneered.

Orrin came out of the trees. "Or else you settle with me, Ox."

"This is my fight, Mr. Sackett," Brandy said. "I will fight him."

The Ox was twice the size of Brandy and several years older. Orrin walked forward. "Yes, Brandy, you have a prior claim, but this man is working for me, and he has chosen to ignore my suggestions. I'd take it as a favor if you'd let me have him."

"Ha!" The Ox stood up. "Forget it, kid. I'd rather whip this smart lawyer-man. I'll show him something he'll never learn in books!"

He started around the fire, and Orrin let him come. Now I came out of the woods. Cap and Haney rode up, and we saw the Ox start for Orrin, swinging a ponderous right fist. Orrin took a short step off to the left and let the right go over his shoulder. At the same instant, he whipped up his right into the Ox's belly.

It was a jolting punch, but the Ox turned like a cat, dropping into a half crouch. Orrin's left took him in the mouth, but the Ox lunged, grabbing for Orrin to get hold of him. Orrin evaded the clutch, hooked a right to the body, and then walked in quickly with a one-two to the face.

The Ox ducked a left and grabbed Orrin, heaving him from his feet to hurl him violently to the ground. Charging in to put the boots to him, the Ox missed his first kick, and Orrin lunged against the leg on which the Ox was standing. The big man went back and down but came up like a rubber ball. A swinging fist caught Orrin beside the head, and he staggered; a left dug into his midsection, and Orrin clinched with the Ox.

The Ox gave a grunt of satisfaction and wrapped his powerful arms around Orrin and began to squeeze. He was enormously powerful, with arms as thick as the legs of most men, and he put the knuckles of a fist against Orrin's spine; then he spread his legs and brought all his power to bear. Orrin gasped, then hooked a left to the Ox's face, then a right; they had no effect. He started to bend Orrin back, trying literally to break his spine, but Orrin was a veteran of too many mountain and barge fights. He threw up his legs and fell back to the ground, bringing the Ox down atop him. The fall broke the grip the Ox had, and Orrin was too fast. Like an eel, he was out of the bigger man's grasp and on his feet. The Ox lunged and met a stiff left that split his lips. He ducked and tried to get in close, but Orrin put the flat of his hand on the Ox's head and spun him away, then deftly tripped him as the Ox went forward, off balance.

The Ox got up slowly. Orrin, knowing the bigger man was better on the ground, stood back and allowed him to get to his feet. "What's the matter, Ox? Is something wrong?"

Cautious now, the Ox moved in, arms spread wide for grappling. Orrin waited on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, feinted a move to the left, then stepped in with a straight left and a right. The blows jolted the Ox but did not stop him. He landed a light left to Orrin's chest, then a smashing right to the head that made Orrin's knees buckle. Lunging close the Ox's head b.u.t.ted Orrin on the chin, knocking Orrin's head back like it was on a hinge.

Orrin went down. The Ox lunged close, kicking for Orrin's head, but a swift movement partially evaded the kick, taking it on the shoulder. It toppled him over again, and the Ox rushed in, booting Orrin viciously in the ribs. Orrin, gasping with pain, lunged to his feet and swung a left that missed and a right that didn't.

Moving around, neither man showing any sign of weariness, they circled for advantage. Orrin stabbed another left to the Ox's bleeding lips and crossed a right that the Ox ducked under. He smashed a right to the ribs that jolted Orrin, who moved back, stabbing a left to the Ox's face.

The Ox rushed, and instead of trying to evade the rush, Orrin turned sidewise and threw the Ox with a rolling hip lock. The bigger man hit the ground hard; but came up fast, and Orrin threw him again with a flying mare.

Jolted, the Ox got up more slowly, and Orrin moved in, stabbing a left three times to the mouth, then slipping away before the Ox could land.

The Ox was breathing hard now. There was a swelling over his right eye, and his lips were puffed and split. He was learning that he must evade the left that was stabbing at his face. He moved his head side to side with his swaying body, then lunged to come in, lost balance, and as he fell forward, Orrin lifted a knee in his face.

The Ox went to his knees, blood dripping from his broken nose and smashed lips.

There was an awesome power in his huge arms and shoulders, but somehow those fists were always in his face, and Orrin's evasiveness left him helpless. He got up slowly, of no mind to quit. As his hands came up, Orrin's left hit him again, and the right crossed to his chin.

He ducked under another right and hooked a right to Orrin's ribs that seemed to have lost none of its power. Orrin stabbed a left that the Ox evaded. Another left missed and then another. Orrin feinted the same left and landed a jolting right cross. He feinted the left again and repeated with the right. The Ox moved in; Orrin feinted the left and then followed through with a stiff jab to the mouth.

The Ox circled warily waiting for the chance he wanted. He knew his own strength and knew what he could do. He had never fought anyone as elusive as Orrin Sackett, nor anyone who could hit as hard. He was learning there were times when strength was almost useless, but he was in no way whipped. He was getting his second wind, and he was ready. Above all, Orrin seemed to be slowing down.

He no longer could be content with whipping Orrin Sackett. He wanted to maim or kill him. Get hold of an arm or a leg and break it. Break his neck if he could. Kill him!

The Ox held his hands low, inviting the jab. Could he grab that darting fist, so like a snake's tongue? If he could a"

The fist darted, and he caught it in his open palm. The other palm smashed upward at Orrin's elbow, but instead of resisting, Orrin went with the power and fell forward to his knees. Before he could turn, the Ox booted him in the ribs. He felt a wicked stab of pain, and he lunged to his feet.

Orrin moved carefully. That he had at least one broken rib he was sure. He had narrowly evaded a broken arm or shoulder. The Ox was learning, and he was dangerous. He had to get him out of there, and now.

There could be no delay.

The Ox, suddenly confident, was coming in now, ready to destroy him. Orrin feinted a left, and the Ox smiled. Orrin backed off slowly, and the Ox, sure of himself, came on in. Orrin feinted a left, and the Ox blocked it with almost negligent ease but failed to catch the right that shot up, thumb and fingers spread.

It caught him right under the Adam's apple, drew back swiftly, and struck again just a little higher.

The Ox staggered back, gagging, then went to his knees, choking and struggling for breath.

Orrin backed off a little, then said to Gilcrist, "Take care of him."

He sat down, mopping his brow; then he looked around at me. "They don't come much tougher."

"No," I said, "they surely don't. Better soak those hands in some warm water with some salts in it. It will take the soreness out."

I walked over to the fire and filled my cup. We had made a good start, but we had a long way to go.

And we were losing two hands.

Chapter XX.

We gulped black coffee in the cool, crisp air, then saddled our broncs for the drive. We roused our cattle from their resting place and moved them out on the trail. There were wild, shrill calls from the cowboys then and whoops to hurry them on. There was a click of horns and a clack of hoofs and the bawling of an angry steer, but the cattle bunched up, and old Brindle took the lead and we headed toward Carlton.

We hung their horns on the Northern Star, and the pace was good for an hour, and then we let them graze as they moved.

"Don't bother with Eagle Creek," Baptiste advised. "The water is brackish, although the gra.s.s is good. There's a wooded glen beyond, a place of trees and springs. But much grizzlies, too."

By late afternoon, we were crossing a long, gently sloping flat; then we pushed the cattle through Eagle Creek and moved on toward the Bad Hills.

It was one long hill, really, and not so much of one at that, cut with many deep, wooded ravines. I did not wonder there might be bears, for the country suited them. It reminded me somewhat of the canyons in the mountain range back of the Puebla de Los Angeles, in California. I'd been there once, long since, and there were grizzlies there, too.

We saw none of the wild horses Baptiste had told us would be there. Orrin came in with a story of old horse tracks on the far side of the herd and added, "This is Blackfoot country."

Fort Carlton was about a quarter of a mile back from the river, a palisaded place with bastions at each of the corners. We bunched our cattle on a flat and a hillside not far from the fort, and with Tyrel remaining with the herd, Orrin and I rode in.

We had come some distance from the Bad Hills, a place we were glad to be free of, as we lost two steers there to grizzlies, both of them found in the morning, one half eaten, the other dragged some distance and covered with brush.

There were a good many Indians, all friendly, in the vicinity of Carlton. At the store, where many things were on sale, we arranged to buy a small amount of ammunition and some supplies. More, they suggested, might be available if we talked to the man in charge.

We were coming out of the store when Orrin stopped short. A girl in a neat gray traveling suit came toward him, hands outstretched. "Why, Mr. Sackett! How nice!"

He flushed and said, "Tell, let me introduce you to Devnet Molrone."

"Howdy, ma'am!"

She turned. "And this is Mrs. Mary McCann, Mr. Sackett!"

"Well, well! Howdy, Mrs. McCann!"

Mary McCann had flushed. Nettie glanced at her, surprised, then at me. I hoped my expression showed nothing but pleasure at the meeting.

"Rare pleasure, Mrs. McCann," I said. "Womenfolks to a man on the trail a" well, we surely see almighty few of them. I've got a friend along with me who would be right happy to shake your hand, ma'am, if you was so inclined. I reckon he ain't seen a woman in weeks, maybe months."

Mary McCann looked right at me and said, "Now that's interestin'. I haven't seen many men, either. Just what would his name be?"

"Mr. Rountree? We call him Cap. He's seen most everything a man can see an' been most everywhere, but I d'clare, ma'am, he'd be right proud to meet you!"

Nettie Molrone put her hand on Orrin's sleeve. "Mr. Sackett? My brother is not here, and they are not sure they even remember him! They think he pa.s.sed through on his way west."

"I was afraid of that, ma'am."

"Mr. Sackett? You're going on west. Could you take me? Take us?"

Orrin glanced at me, hesitating. Now the last person I wanted on a cattle drive was a young, pretty woman. As far as that goes, Mary McCann was a handsome woman, considering her age and poundage.

"Please? There's no other way west, and I must find my brother! I have to find him!"

"Well a" " I hesitated, trying to find a way out, and I couldn't see one. After all, I was the oldest brother, and officially, I suppose, I was the boss. Not that I wanted the job or cared for it.

All the time, I was wondering what Cap would say and wondering also how Mary McCann got her name and what made her change it. Not that a change of names was anything unusual west of the Mississippi, and especially west of the Rockies. The last time I'd run into Mary McCann was down New Mexico way.

"Ma'am," I said, "it's a far land to which we go, and the way will be hard. Nothing like what you see here. So far as I know, there's but one fort betwixt here and the mountains. The land is wild, ma'am, with Injuns, with wolves and grizzlies."

"We may be long periods without water, and the grub may not be of the best. We can stop for nothing, man, woman, or beast, once we start moving again. We've taken a contract to deliver these cattle before winter sets in, and were bound an' determined to do it."

"If you come with us, we'll play no favorites. You'll stand to the drive as the men do, and at times you may be called upon to help. It is a hard land, ma'am, and we'll have no truck with those who come with idle hands."

Her chin came up. "I can do my share! I will do my share!"

Well, I looked at her, the lift to the chin and the glint in her eyes, and I thought of Orrin there beside her, and I remembered the failure of his first marriage. If this girl stood to it, she was a woman to ride the river with, and Orrin wanted it, and her. Surely, no woman would have a harder time of it.

"All right," I said, "but no whining, no asking for favors. You'll be treated like a lady."

"You need have no fears." She stood straight and looked me in the eye. "I can stand as much as any man."

"Can you ride, ma'am? And can you shoot?"

"I can ride. I can shoot a little."

"Come along, then, and if your brother is alive, we we will find him."

"What became of Kyle Gavin?" Orrin asked.

She frowned a little. "Why, I don't know. He was very attentive, and then suddenly he was there no longer. I don't know when he left or how."

When I went outside, Cap was riding in through the gate with Highpockets Haney. "Cap," I said, "if you see any familiar faces don't call them by name."

He looked at me out of those wise old eyes, eyes wiser and older than the man himself, and he said, "I learned a long time ago that a name is only what a person makes it."

He stepped down and said, "What about those womenfolks?"

"We're takin' them with us, Cap. One of them is tough enough and strong enough to charge h.e.l.l with a bucket of water. The other one thinks she is."

Cap hesitated, one hand resting on his saddle. "Tell, you and me know better than any of them what lies ahead."

"We do," I said.

We had ridden the empty trails with a hollow moon in the sky and the bare peaks showing their teeth at the sky. We'd seen men die and horses drop, and we'd seen cattle wandering, dazed from thirst and heat. The leather of our hides had been cured on the stem by hot winds and cold, by blown dust and snow and hail falling. We knew what lay ahead, and we knew that girl might die. We knew she might go mad from heat and dust, and we knew I'd no business in letting her come. Yet I'd seen the desperation in her eyes and the grim determination in her mouth and chin.

"Orrin's taken with her, Cap," I said, "and I think she'll stay the route."

"If you say so," he said. He tied his horse. "That person you thought I might put a name to?"

"Mary McCann," I said, "and she's a d.a.m.ned fine cook." I looked at him slyly. "An' for much of her life she's been in love with a miserable old mountain man turned cownurse who drifts where the wind takes him."

"I wouldn't know anybody like that," he said, and went inside.

We got the pemmican and other supplies we needed, including the ammunition, but we couldn't buy them for money. They needed cattle. When we started out of Fort Carlton, we were thirty head short of what we brought in. They wanted the beef, we needed the supplies, and lucky it was because none of us were carrying much money. We'd spent a good bit and were running shy of cash money.

We went over the bluffs and into higher, beautiful pasture land, and we let the cattle graze. G.o.d knew what lay before us, but the best advice we got was to fatten our stock whilst we could.

Many a time those days I wished I had the words of Orrin, who could speak a beautiful tongue. It was the Welsh in us, I guess, coming out in him, but it left me saddened for my own lack. I hadn't no words with which to tell of the land, that beautiful green land that lay before and around us. Some didn't like the cotton-woods. Well, maybe they weren't just that for folks up here called them poplars, and maybe that's what they were. Only they were lovely with their green leaves rustling.

Westward we marched, short-handed by two, for we'd left the Ox and Gilcrist behind.

It had all come to a head when we were fixing to leave Carlton. Gilcrist had come to me with the Ox at his shoulder. "We want our time," Gilcrist said.

When he had his money in his hand, Gilcrist said, "Someday I'm goin' to look you up, Sackett. Someday I want to find out if you can really handle that gun."

"Follow me back to the States," I said, "and choose your time."