"You've got good ears, Gregorio," said Mustang Taylor. "I never heard
nothin' but the song-bird in the bush and the zephyr skallyhootin'
across the peaceful dell."

In ten minutes Taylor remarked: "I see the dust of a wagon risin'
right above the fur end of the flat."

"You have verree good eyes, señor," said Gregorio, smiling.

Two miles away they saw a faint cloud dimming the green ripples of the
mesquites. In twenty minutes they heard the clatter of the horses'
hoofs: in five minutes more the grey plugs dashed out of the thicket,
whickering for oats and drawing the light wagon behind them like a
toy.

From the _jacals_ came a cry of: "_El Amo! El Amo_! [62]" Four Mexican
youths raced to unharness the greys. The cowpunchers gave a yell of
greeting and delight.

[FOOTNOTE 62: El Amo!--(Spanish) The boss!]

Ranse Truesdell, driving, threw the reins to the ground and laughed.

"It's under the wagon sheet, boys," he said. "I know what you're
waiting for. If Sam lets it run out again we'll use those yellow shoes
of his for a target. There's two cases. Pull 'em out and light up. I
know you all want a smoke."

After striking dry country Ranse had removed the wagon sheet from the