"Well, I _know_ 'em. What would you say if I was to tell you that Joshua
knowed once they was a fella ridin' behind me, five miles back, and out
of sight--and told me, plain?"

"I wouldn't say anything."

"There's where you're wise. I can talk to you about such things. But
when I try to talk to the boys like that, they just josh, till I git mad
and quit. They ain't takin' me serious."

"What is your plan?" queried Bartley.

Cheyenne reined up and dismounted. "Step down, and take a look," he
suggested.

Bartley dismounted. Cheyenne pointed out horse-tracks on the trail along
the edge of the hills.

"Five hosses," he asserted. "Two of 'em is mine. That leaves three that
are carryin' weight. But we're makin' a mistake for ourselves, trailin'
Panhandle direct. He figures mebby I'd do that. I got to outfigure him.
I don't want to git blowed out of my saddle by somebody in the brush,
just waitin' for me to ride up and git shot. I got the way he's headed,
and by to-morrow mornin' I'll know for sure.

"If he'd been goin' to swing back, to fool me, he'd 'a' done it before
he hit the timber, up yonder. Once he gits in them hills he'll head
straight south, for they ain't no other trail to ride on them ridges.
But mebby he cut along the foothills, first. I got to make sure."