What cows?"
"Down there among the trees—you'll see them come out in the open place in a minute."
"They don't drive up any cows in this country, bud; the only milk you'll ever get here will be out of a tin can. It's some of the boys driving out a few strays that have got in here—they will slip through, especially the cows with calves."
"Well, I don't blame 'em for that," said Barrett, feeling as cheap, very likely, as Nearing meant to make him feel, taking the sneering patronage of his tone.
Nearing said no more. He started down the slope to come into the little valley on a long angle, Barrett following painfully, for the gait was quicker now, as if the cattleman had become impatient of lagging to accommodate the saddle softness of his charge.
They were within a quarter of a mile of the bottom when the two men whom Barrett had noted reappeared from behind the screen of willows. Nearing stopped suddenly, putting out his hand to stay his companion.
The rancher drew cautiously behind a clump of cedars, Barrett following. A little while Nearing watched the two men below, who were swearing volubly at a cow and calf which persisted in galloping after the ten or twelve other cattle they were urging ahead of them.
"Who are they?" Barrett asked, a pretty well defined feeling growing on him that it wasn't honest business going on below.
"I'm not certain," Nearing replied, leaning to peer through the cedar boughs.
