lids, and asked them if they thought they could.

Pink began to speak of their new foreman as "Moses"; and when the curious
asked him why, told them soberly that Rowdy could "hit a rock with his quirt
and start a creek running bank full." When Rowdy heard that, he thought of
the miles of weary searching, and wished that it were true.

They had left the home ranch a day's drive behind them, and were going
north. Rowdy had denied himself the luxury of riding over to see Jessie, and
he was repenting the sacrifice in deep gloom and sincerity, when two men
rode into camp and dismounted, as if they had a right. The taller one--with
brawn and brain a-plenty, by the look of him--announced that he was the
sheriff, and would like to stop overnight.

Rowdy gave him welcome half-heartedly, and questioned him craftily. A
sheriff is not a detective, and does not mind giving harmless information;
so Rowdy learned that they had traced Conroy thus far, and believed that he
was ahead of them and making for Canada. He had dodged them cleverly two or
three times, but now they had reason to believe that he was not more than
half a day's ride before them. They wanted to know if the outfit had seen
any one that day, or sign of any one having passed that way.

Rowdy shook his head.

"I bet it was Harry Conroy driving that little bunch uh horses up the creek,
just as we come over the ridge," spoke Pink eagerly.

Rowdy could have choked him. "He wouldn't be driving a lot of horses," he
interposed quickly.