Another followed, and still another.
"That's right. Shoot up the scenery. Y'u don't hurt us none," the
foreman said, apostrophizing the man behind the gun.
The next clipped fence brought them to the open country. For half
an hour they rode swiftly without halt. Then McWilliams drew up.
"Where are we making for?"
"How about the Wind River country?"
"Won't do. First off, they'll strike right down that way after
us. What's the matter with running up Sweetwater Creek and lying
out in the bad lands around the Roubideaux?"
"Good. I have a sheep-camp up that way. I can arrange to have
grub sent there for us by a man I can trust."
"All right. The Roubideaux goes."
While they were nooning at a cow-spring, Bannister, lying on his
back, with his face to the turquoise sky, became aware that a
vagrant impulse had crystallized to a fixed determination. He
broached it at once to his companion.
"One thing is a cinch, Mac. Neither y'u nor I will be safe in
this country now until we have broken up the gang of desperadoes
that is terrorizing this country. If we don't get them they will
get us. There isn't any doubt about that. I'm not willing to lie
down before these miscreants.
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