"Are they rustlers?"
"Keep still—till we see what they're up to," Nearing returned, cautiously, with lowered voice.
Barrett was no longer conscious of his weariness and saddle soreness. He was tingling with a resurge of the indignant feeling that had swept him last night over the unchecked robbery of these pirates of the plains, only now it came upon him intensified, hot as fire in his eyes.
"They're driving away our cattle, whoever they are," said Barrett.
In his eagerness to watch their movements he rode from the cover of the cedar clump. Scarcely a hundred yards below him one of the men was pursuing a head of the little herd which appeared bent on remaining behind with the rejected cow and calf.
This man, so intent on his business, which he pursued with the noise and confidence of security, did not see Barrett standing out in the open above him. He headed the rebellious animal back to join the little herd, not once looking about to see whether his movements were watched. Judging from their demeanor, the men were honest cowboys following their duty. Yet Barrett had a very good reason for believing they were not.
"Does that man work for us?" he inquired rather sharply, riding back to Nearing, who still kept his place of concealment behind the thick branches of the low cedars.
"He don't work for the Diamond Tail," Nearing returned, with emphasis that seemed to rebuke this assumption of partnership.
