At daylight Jerry went on his way rejoicing; the round-up started again in full swing on the SV, crossing the line onto Triangle range, to the later astonishment and vexation of Frank Gurley, Triangle rider on that section, whose hasty visit to his bunkhouse aroused a lively discussion, fortified him with Sam Gardner and Jim Lefferts to protect the interests of their ranch, and upon their return to the scene of activity, fortified Cimarron\'s smiling, but firm outfit, with three more men. In Highbank, Wolf Forbes, penniless now, was beginning to go without liquor and drift toward soberness, and the lambent flame of his reawakened anger burned constantly stronger; while out on the Double X, Johnny and the sleeping members of that outfit awoke to a new day\'s work, and to a firmer and warmer bond between them. The Bar H awakened to a new puzzle; the mysterious disappearance of Smitty and the discussion which followed his inexplicable absence resulted in Dahlgren being dispatched to Gunsight to see if the erring puncher had yielded to his well-known thirst and might be found snoring in that vicinity. Also, he was to keep an eye out for Wolf, and to make cautious inquiry concerning him.
Dahlgren was most successful in his mission, accumulating a fund of information staggering in its total[218] and barren of reason. His first accretion of wisdom came when he left East Canyon and descried numerous punchers zealously bent upon an operation well known to him, and he rode up for what information he might be able to obtain. Hoping for a full loaf, expecting a half, he left with a few crumbs which only increased his appetite for more. In Gunsight his appearance caused unnecessary hilarity, and his questions as to Smitty\'s location were received with impolite guffaws, followed by an explicit description of Smitty\'s riding, looks, words, and actions, coupled to various prophesies, variously stated. When he mentioned Wolf, a veritable gale of laughter deafened and confused him, and the roundabout, cryptic, and fragmentary references to Wolf taxed his brain. He gathered the information that Wolf was wrapped in hides as his preference in perfumes; that Wolf was in the skin business, without competitors; that he had descended in the social scale to the point where he traveled as freight; that he took an arduous, unnecessary, and uncomfortable journey and was to be known, henceforth and hereafter, as Polecat, a name being better suited to his habits and preferences. It was explained that he was not expected back, which accounted for the half-masted flags and the black bands on the hats. He learned that Smitty was on the trail of Squint and would catch him if he went far enough in the right direction, and that Polecat was on the trail of Smitty, but would have to ride hard; and a further suggestion postulated the belief that Squint was on the trail of Wolf. Gunsight was as generous in its liquor as it was in its explanations; it was[219] open-handed and lavish, and insisted that the distinguished Bar H ambassador imbibe freely, which he did; and when he was helped into his saddle and started for home, he tried to repeat what he had heard so that he would not forget it; and by the time he reached the bunkhouse he had not forgotten anything but the relations between the various parts of each thing to be remembered, and his account was verbal hash. Big Tom learned, among other things equally lucid and valuable, that Polecat Forbes went after Squint hunting Smitty\'s holy hat rounding up SV cows on the Double X part of the Triangle journey and would not be back until forty miles of hides went up toward Juniper with Two-Spot keeping tally on Cimarron\'s wagon.
In the presence of such loquacity, Big Tom lost the power of speech, choked with feelings of a murderous kind, and used the flat of his foot as a propulsive agent, which Dahlgren found helped him in getting to his bunk, where he sprawled out on his back and snored through a cloud of flies foregathered for their share of what had dribbled.
The foreman strode to the horse corral, swearing at every step, caught, saddled, and mounted his best horse and rode off to see and hear for himself. The first man he met was Cimarron, who was expecting visitors after Dahlgren\'s departure, and had placed himself where he would be seen easily. The segundo had been thinking things over and had about come to the conclusion that it would be foolish to try to deny the part the Double X was taking in the round-up; and when[220] he caught sight of Big Tom riding toward him a feeling of contempt swept over him and decided the question.
"There\'s more excitement on this ranch than I\'ve seen in some time," smiled the Bar H foreman. "Makin\' a clean sweep of everythin\' that\'s got hoofs?"
"Clean is th\' word," answered Cimarron, his smile as friendly as the visitor\'s. "I reckon Lin is mebby thinkin\' more about beef, though."
"Aimin\' to start a herd up th\' trail?"
"I don\'t just know what dickerin\' there may come out of this," answered the round-up boss. "He says for me to take some of th\' boys an\' round up over here. There\'s no tellin\' what he may do. I know that I can report that there\'s quite some four-year-olds, an\' a few three-year-olds. Where th\' devil th\' cattle under four years old are keepin\' themselves I don\'t know. But if he\'s aimin\' to throw in a herd for Arnold an\' send \'em up th\' trail with some of ours they\'ll be numerous enough to make a showin\'. He may be gettin\' sweet on this ranch, because of them Snake Buttes thieves. If he is, I reckon Arnold wouldn\'t turn down a fair cash offer for grazin\' a couple of herds over here through th\' fall an\' winter. He\'s got room for three times th\' number feedin\' here now."
"There ain\'t no doubt about that," answered Big Tom. "When are you aimin\' to round up for strays on our north end?"
"Why, there can\'t be many over there," replied Cimarron. "Th\' natural barriers would keep \'em back. Have you noticed any?"
"Nary a one; but if you want to make shore, I\'ll lend[221] you a couple of th\' boys, \'though I\'m shore gettin\' short of men."
"If you say you ain\'t seen none, that\'s good enough for me until th\' spring round-up, anyhow; an\' then we can start combin\' at the same time, if we do th\' work for th\' SV, of course."
"What\'s Arnold askin\' for th\' SV, lock, stock, an\' barrel?" bluntly asked Big Tom.
"Don\'t know," answered Cimarron, surprised. "I don\'t reckon Lin would consider buyin\' it, \'less, mebby, he could sell th\' Double X. But what\'s th\' use of you an\' me talkin\' about that? I don\'t know nothin\' except orders, an\' th\' only orders I got was to run this round-up an\' get back as soon as I can. I\'ll be leavin\' you now, for I\'m workin\' harder than any man here, which shore is sayin\' somethin\'."
"An\' I got to be ridin\' on," said the Bar H foreman, and he made the words good. Reaching the Doc\'s shack, he dismounted and went inside, where he remained for nearly an hour, came out, glanced at the bullet holes and then went on to town, where he found the saloon deserted except for the proprietor.
Dave looked up and let his hand rest on the cap-and-ball under the bar, said cap-and-ball being .44 caliber, with the annoying habit of often sending one through the barrel, and igniting the caps on the nearest chambers and sending their contents along each side of the barrel with roving commissions.
"Well, Dave!" smiled Big Tom, motioning for a drink that he did not want, "I\'m lookin\' for strays—two-laigged strays."
[222]
"What you wants is another outfit to ride herd on this one," sympathized Dave. "Lookin\' for Smitty?"
"He\'s one of \'em. Have you seen him?"
"I have. He didn\'t stop here, so I don\'t know where he got it," said the proprietor, grinning; "but from th\' way he acted, insultin\' folks, I reckon he must \'a\' been bit by a passel of snakes, an\' took too much cure."
"That\'s th\' worst of them sponges," regretted Big Tom, a scowl going over his face. "I don\'t mind a periodic if there\'s plenty of time in between; but Smitty\'s periodics are like th\' days in th\' week durin\' a round-up—they come too close together. Have you seen any others?"
"I ain\'t—not since Wolf was in here one afternoon last week," answered Dave. "Let\'s see: that was th\' day Ol\' Buffalo come down from Sherman, which would make it on a Friday. But," he said sorrowfully, "I has had distressin\' news about Wolf. Young Jerry Wheatley, who\'s freightin\' now, stopped in here only last night an\' says Wolf was down in Highbank drinkin\' \'em out of everything but water. He says yore puncher was on th\' worst bender he\'s seen in months, which I says means somethin\', comin\' from a town like Highbank."
Big Tom\'s fist crashed on the bar. "Cuss it!" he exclaimed wrathfully, "that\'s th\' worst of them periodics! You can\'t never tell when they\'ll start, an\' nobody knows when they\'ll stop!"
"You lose, both ways," nodded Dave. "Jerry says he didn\'t have no hoss, saddle, or guns; an\' a man can travel rapid on what they\'d sell for."
[223]
"They wouldn\'t buy th\' cayuse," reflected Big Tom, "seein\' as he ain\'t supposed to own no Bar H animal. But I reckon it might \'a\' strayed th\' Lord only knows how far. We ain\'t noticed no cayuse missin\', so far, but that don\'t mean nothin\'. All right! He can come back when he goes broke an\' sobers up an\' he can walk, d—n him! Was Lang with him?"
"Lang? Is he missin\', too?" Dave\'s astonishment was genuine.
"Disappeared like th\' earth swallowed him," growled Big Tom. "They\'ve hunted all over for him, an\' can\'t find nothin\' at all. I\'m sayin\' this country is goin\' loco; an\' I\'ll give a hundred dollars cash to find out what\'s at th\' bottom of it all. Why, cuss it! Sherwood is roundin\' up for the SV—what\'s th\' matter with him? Is he loco, too?"
"Mebby he figgers on makin\' them idle punchers of his\'n bring in somethin\' besides appetites," guessed Dave. "I don\'t blame him at all."
"Mebby; but they acts like they was havin\' a picnic out there. Have you heard anythin\' about th\' Double X startin\' a herd of their own up on th\' trail?"
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