"Where are they?"

"Runnin' around out there somewhere. They never stray far from camp."

Bartley watched Cheyenne untwist a piece of soft rope and make a pair of
serviceable hobbles.

"Now he'll travel easy and git enough grass to keep him in shape. And
them hobbles won't burn him. Any time you're shy of hobbles, that's how
to make 'em."

Later, as Bartley sat by the fire and ate, Cheyenne asked him if
Panhandle had been seen in town since the night of the crap game.
Bartley told him that he had seen nothing of Panhandle.

"He's ridin' this country, somewhere," said Cheyenne. "You're headed for
Steve's ranch?"

"Yes."

"Well, Steve'll sure give you the time of your life."

"I think I'll stay there a few days, if the Senator can make room for
me."

"Room! Wait till you see Steve's place. And say, if you want to get wise
to how they run a cattle outfit, just throw in with the boys, tell 'em
you're a plumb tenderfoot and can't ride a bronc, nohow, and that you
never took down a rope in your life, and that all you know about cattle