“Plenty,” replied Slim, “but first I’ve got to take care of Lightning and then get a little grub for myself. I’m starved.”
Half an hour later, with a plate of steaming food before him and the Double O and Box B riders grouped around, he related the events of the last few hours.
“I’ve suspected Hack Cook for some time,” said Joe Haines, hitching his gun belt higher when Slim told them that another shipment of stolen cattle was to be dispatched the next night.
“They’ve shipped the last of _our_ cattle,” rumbled Nels, his hands shaking with rage. The other cowboys backed up his remarks with determined expressions.
“What’s the plan of action?” Joe asked Slim, for the young rider, by his resourcefulness, had become the acknowledged leader now in planning the campaign against the rustlers.
“I think we’d better hit the trail for Mopstick. Then swing south along the railroad and lay a trap for the rustlers. They’ll drive the cattle through the low pass in the Cajons and we’ll catch them red-handed. That will give us all of the evidence we’ll need.”
Nels nodded his approval and Joe looked around at the others.
“You boys all set for a clash with the rustlers?” he asked.
Less than an hour later, the Box B and the Double O cowboys left the line camp, Slim taking the lead and Nels and Joe trailing close behind. At the pace they planned to travel, it would be an all night ride to Mopstick, where they would water their horses, rest, and then ride leisurely down the railroad and lay their trap for the rustlers.
They crossed the country where Slim had almost been trapped by the cloudburst and found the stream nearly back to normal. Hour after hour they moved along the trail, cutting through the foothills and then over the Cajons and down the other side.
Slim was thinking of the action that would come the next night, considering first one plan and then another for cornering the rustlers. He didn’t want bloodshed if it could be avoided. If things went well, the rustling in the Creeping Shadows country would be broken soon.
It was nearly dawn when they reached Mopstick, where they watered their horses at the trough under the railroad tank. A fast mail thundered through the hamlet, and Al Bass was taken for a ride by his cayuse, which went wild at the sound of the locomotive whistle.