Flint. "Danged if we kin
ketch one o' 'em away from th' waggins."

"That's jest as well," replied Tom. "More'n half of 'em hate Armijo as
much as we do. If ye pick 'em off careless yer bound ter make mistakes.
Thar's one gang that's fer him strong, an' 'twon't be long before they
split from th' others an' stand out so thar won't be no mistakin' 'em.
They'll be trailin' me an' Hank in a bunch. We're aimin' ter slip away
an' head fer Bent's some place between hyar an' the Upper Spring."

"Thought ye was goin' ter Santa Fe," said Burch in surprise. "If yer
goin' ter Bent's ye should 'a' left th' train at th' Crossin'."

"I'm goin' ter Santa Fe," replied Tom, "but thar's some folks that air
anxious ter see me. If they larn I'm thar I'll likely be stood ag'in a
wall; an' Armijo'll add my ears ter his c'llection. We got ter throw 'em
off our trail." He smiled grimly around the circle. "I don't want
Salezar ter larn I'm in this part o' the country, fer I want ter git my
paws on him."

At the mention of that name the eyes of the leader flamed with
flickering fires and he leaned slightly forward, unable to conceal his
eagerness. "Whar ye aimin' ter leave th' caravan, friend?" he asked.

"Don't know jest yet," answered Tom, "but I know th' way we'll head. Ye
know whar th' waggin road crossed McNees Crick? Wall, plumb north o'
that a crick empties inter th' Cimarron. Thar's a dry gully jines th'
crick at its mouth, makin' a V. Th' gully war made by th' buffalers
wearin' away th' top soil, which let the rains cut inter th' sand
beneath an' wash it away. That buffaler trail is th' biggest ye ever
saw, an' it's worn down so deep that every rain pours a stream along it.
It's cut a gully back fer a hundred paces to whar th' buffaler wallers
have turned a little pasture inter a swamp when it rains. Clost to its
upper end is a hill, whar my partner built a cache about ten years back.
He says th' pit could be easy seen when he war thar last."

"We're aimin' ter head fer Bent's as soon as th' caravan gits too fur
along," said the leader, who not long since had returned from the
lepers' hospital, used as a prison in his case, in Mexico City. His
bitterness had seared him to the soul and Tom thought it strange that he
so easily would forego the desire for revenge, the flames of which
intermittently flickered in his eyes. "I've been wonderin' about th'
best an' straightest way to Bent's, with water on it. Yer pardner says
that's th' be