In the course of the day and the second night both the sheepman
and his friend made attempt to establish a more cordial
relationship with Chalkeye, but so far as any apparent results
went their efforts were vain. He refused grimly to meet their
overtures half way, even though it was plain from his manner that
a break between him and his chief could not long be avoided.
All day by crooked trails they pushed forward, and as the party
advanced into the mountains the gloom of the mournful pines and
frowning peaks invaded its spirits. Suspicion and distrust went
with it, camped at night by the rushing mountain stream, lay down
to sleep in the shadows at every man's shoulder. For each man
looked with an ominous eye on his neighbor, watchful of every
sudden move, of every careless word that might convey a sudden
meaning.
Along a narrow rock-rim trail far above a steep canon, whose
walls shot precipitously down, they were riding in single file,
when the outlaw chief pushed his horse forward between the road
wall and his cousin's bronco. The sheepman immediately fell back.
"I reckon this trail isn't wide enough for two--unless y'u take
the outside," he explained quietly.
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