Scip ducked his head as he said:

"We's a hull team and a dog under the waggin, but, Massa Doctor, I'se
goin' out to look after the bosses," and he left the room.

Moriarity, picking up a rifle and cartridge belt, said he was going out
for a canter and see what luck he could have in the way of game. This
left Cummings and the Doctor alone.

Glancing out the window they saw Moriarity gallop off, and a short
distance behind Scip on his horse, following.

"Where did you pick up that darkey, Doctor?" asked Cummings.

"In St. Louis, about five years ago. He is a good one, faithful and
brave, and will never squeal. He is just the man to help us on this new
deal."

The subject of this conversation was all this time galloping over the
level prairie, following closely behind Moriarity, who, with his rifle
thrown across the pommel of his saddle, was on the look out for anything
in the way of game which might come along.

As they rode along they would meet one of the herders sitting at ease on
his horse, or galloping madly after some refractory steer that was
making a break for freedom. They had, in their ride, passed four of
these men, and to every one Scip gave a signal, merely the wave of his
hand in a peculiar manner, to which the men had responded likewise. They
were nearing another stand, the ranchman, astride his pony, stood