"If we get a good bunch we'll sit back an' take things easy for awhile. Too many drives may cut a trail that'll show, an' we can't risk that."
"Too bad we have to drive west an' north before we hit for the plain," said Jud Hill. "Takes two days more, that way."
The trail-boss smiled. "I know a way that would suit you, Jud," he said. "So does Miguel—but we've been savin' it till th' old route gets too risky. It joins th' regular trail right here. Well, at last th' cook has really cooked—pass it this way, Thorpe. I'm eatin' fast an' I'm turnin' in faster. Th' more we beat th' sun gettin' away from here, th' less it'll beat on us. We're leavin' an hour ahead of it."
Not waiting until the camp should become silent, when any noise he might make would be more likely to be heard, Hopalong crept away while the rustlers ate and returned to his friend, who waited under a certain group of stars.
Red cocked his head at the soft sound, his Colt swinging to cover it, when he heard his name called in his friend's voice, and he replied.
Hopalong sat down on the blanket and related what he had seen and heard without comment from his listener until the end of the narrative.
"Huh!" said Red. "You learned a-plenty. An' I'm glad they reached that water-hole after dark, an' are goin' to go on again before it gets light. They missed our tracks. I call that luck," he said in great satisfaction. "We wasn't doin' much guessin'. That's shore their drive trail, an' th' best thing about it is that it's th' bottom of th' Y. They've got two ways of leavin' th' ranges without
