"Some horse to take on a trip like this," he said. "A half-broke mule
couldn't be worse. Funny if Doug don't gum the whole game for us,
Charleton."

"You go to hell, Scott!" grunted Douglas.

Scott sat up with a jerk. Charleton spoke sharply. "No scrapping! You two
get to sleep!"

Scott lay down reluctantly. Doug shrugged his broad shoulders, and
shortly, head in his saddle, feet to the fire, he was fast asleep.

The trees were black against gray light when Charleton called the two
young riders.

"Let's eat and be off," he said briefly.

Breakfast was a short affair of bread, bacon and coffee. While they were
bolting it, Charleton outlined the campaign.

"You'll see Nelson's cattle have been all through here. No one else
grazes hereabouts. Don't rope any cows with calves following 'em. They
make too much bellowing. Get what steers you can by mid-morning into the
old corral. There isn't one chance in a thousand we'll meet any one.
Nelson's making hay five miles below here. But if any one should come
along when you've roped a steer, get him to examine the brand for you,
and of course if the brand isn't yours, let the critter go."

"Where is the old corral from here?" asked Scott.