they could not make headway. Team, wagon, and driver
began to drift down the river. Supplies, floating from the top of the
load, were scattered in all directions.

Instantly six men became very busy. Rope loops flew out and tightened
around the bed of the wagon. Others circled the necks of the horses. Dud
dived into the river to lighten the load. Harshaw, Bob, and the cook rode
into the shallow water and salvaged escaping food, while the riders on
the other bank guided wagon and team ashore.

Dud, dripping like a mermaid, came to land with a grin. Under one arm a
pasty sack of flour was tucked, under the other a smoked venison haunch.
"An' I took a bath only yesterday," he lamented.

The food was sun-dried and the wagon repacked.

At Dry Creek, which was now a rushing torrent, Harshaw threw the cattle
into a draw green with young grass and made camp for the night.

"We got neighbors," announced Big Bill, watching a thin column of smoke
rising from the mesa back of them.

"Guess I'll drift over after supper," Harshaw said. "Maybe they can give
me the latest news about high water down the river."

Hawks had just come in from the remuda. He gave information.

"I drifted over to their camp. An old friend, one of 'em. Gent by the
name of Bandy Walker. He's found that outfit of he-men he was lookin'
for."

"Yes," said the cattleman non-committally.

"One's a stranger. The other's another old friend of some o' the boys.
Jake Houck he calls hisself."

Bob's heart shriveled within him. Two enemies scarcely a stone's throw
away, and probably both of them knew he was here. Had they come to settle
with him?

He dismissed this last fear. In Jake Houck's scheme of things he was not
important enough to call for a special trip of vengeance.

"We'll leave 'em alone," Harshaw decided. "If any of them drop over we'll
be civil. No trouble, boys, you understand."

But Houck's party did not show up, and before break of day the camp of
the trail herd outfit was broken. The riders moved the herd up the creek
to an open place where it could be easily crossed. From here the cattle
drifted back toward the river. Dud was riding on the point, Hawks and
Dillon on the drag.

In the late afternoon a gulch obstructed their path. It ran down at right
angles to the Rio Blanco. Along the edge of this Harshaw rode till he
found an easier descent. He drove the leaders into the ravine and started
them up the other side of the trough to the