k-visaged. "Fall's sure a-comin'... Now if only we had some grub!"

"Moze, there's a hunk of deer meat in my saddle-bag, an' if you git it
you can have half," spoke up another voice.

Moze shuffled out with alacrity.

In the firelight Snake Anson's face looked lean and serpent-like, his
eyes glittered, and his long neck and all of his long length carried out
the analogy of his name.

"Snake, what's this here deal with Beasley?" inquired Jim.

"Reckon you'll l'arn when I do," replied the leader. He appeared tired
and thoughtful.

"Ain't we done away with enough of them poor greaser herders--for
nothin'?" queried the youngest of the gang, a boy in years, whose hard,
bitter lips and hungry eyes somehow set him apart from his comrades.

"You're dead right, Burt--an' that's my stand," replied the man who
had sent Moze out. "Snake, snow 'll be flyin' round these woods before
long," said Jim Wilson. "Are we goin' to winter down in the Tonto Basin
or over on the Gila?"

"Reckon we'll do some tall ridin' before we strike south," replied
Snake, gruffly.

At the juncture Moze returned.

"Boss, I heerd a hoss comin' up the trail," he said.

Snake rose and stood at the door, listening. Outside the wind moaned
fitfully and scattering raindrops pattered upon the cabin.

"A-huh!" exclaimed Snake, in relief.

Silence ensued then for a moment, at the end of which interval Dale
heard a rapid clip-clop on the rocky trail outside. The men below
shuffled uneasily, but none of them spoke. The fire cracked cheerily.
Snake Anson stepped back from before the door with an action that
expressed both doubt and caution.

The trotting horse had halted out there somewhere.

"Ho there, inside!" called a voice from the darkness.

"Ho yourself!" replied Anson.

"That you, Snake?" quickly followed the query.

"Reckon so," returned Anson, showing himself.

The newcomer entered. He was a large man, wearing a slicker that shone
wet in the firelight. His sombrero, pulled well down, shadowed his face,
so that the upper half of his features might as well have been masked.
He had a black, drooping mustache, and a chin like a rock. A potential
force, matured and powerful, seemed to be wrapped in his movements.

"Hullo, Snake! Hullo, Wilson!" he said. "I've backed out on the other
deal. Sent for you on--on another little matter... particular private."

Here he indicated with a significant gesture that Snake's men were to
leave the cabin.