bean poles is more than I can
understand."

"It would take them a month or more to float the sheep over, one at a
time, on a bunch of poles," objected Bud.

"That isn't what they're going to do," declared Dick, after closely
watching the actions of the Mexicans. "They're going to leave, that's
what they're planning."

"Leave? What do you mean; go away?" asked his brother.

"That's it--yes. They're going to make those dinguses the Indians use
trailing after their horses--a pole fastened to either side of the
animal, and the ends dragging on the ground. Between the poles they
carry their duffle."

"Nonsense!" laughed Bud. "In the first place these aren't Indians,
though they're as bad, I reckon. But they didn't come with those pole
trailers; so why would they make 'em to go away with? All they own
they can pack in their hats."

"I guess you're right," admitted Dick, after thinking it over. "But
they're going to do something."

They were all watching the Mexicans now. The men with long
poles--which they must have brought with them as none grew in the
vicinity--now closely approached the edge of the creek. They could not
be going to make a raft--the nature of the poles precluded that.

Then, as one after another of the sheep herders thrust the end of his
pole into the water, wading out a short distance to do this, Bud
uttered an exclamation.

"I have it!" the lad cried.

"You mean you're on to the game?" asked Dick.

"Yes."

"What is it?" cried the two brothers.

"They're feeling around to find the places where the quicksands are,"
announced Bud.

"You mean so they can jump in and get rid of themselves?" grimly asked
Snake Purdee.

"I mean so they can tell where _not_ to cross," said Bud, though this
was unnecessary, since they all grasped his meaning when he spoke of
the quicksands.

"I guess you're right, son," observed Old Billee, who had come back to
the fort with the return of the cowboys. "They're looking for safe
fords and I shouldn't wonder but what they'd find 'em."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," said a tall lank cowboy.

"What do you mean?" Billee wanted to know.

"Wa'al, they may find the places where it's safe to cross--I ain't
sayin' but what they is sich places," went on "Lanky," as he was
called, "I know this creek putty well, an' I've crossed it more'n once,
swimmin' a hoss over an' sometimes drivin' cattle. But th' trouble is
sometimes when you find a safe place it