“And brand a few outsiders.”

He grinned.

“Maybe I was n’t over-particular, but anyhow I got a thousand head together by the last o’ June, an’ hit the trail with ’em.  Then hell sure broke loose.  ’Fore we ‘d got that bunch o’ cattle twenty mile down the Cimarron we wus rounded up by a gang o’ Cheyenne Injuns, headed by that ornery Koleta, and every horn of ’em drove off.  Thar wa’n’t no fight; the damn bucks just laughed at us, an’ left us sittin’ thar out on the prairie.  They hogged hosses an’ all.”

He wiped his face, and spat into the fire, while Hamlin sat silent, gun in hand.

“I reckon now as how Le Fevre put ol’ Koleta wise to that game, but I was plum innocent then,” he went on regretfully.  “Wall, we,—­thar wus four o’ us,—­hoofed it east till we struck some ranchers on Cow Crick, and got the loan o’ some ponies.  Then I struck out to locate the main herd.  It didn’t take me long, stranger, to discover thar wa’n’t no herd to locate.  But I struck their trail, whar Le Fevre had driven ’em up into Missouri and cashed in fer a pot o’ money.  Then the damn cuss just natch’ally vanished.  I plugged ’bout fer two er three months hopin’ ter ketch up with him, but I never did.  I heerd tell o’ him onc’t or twice, an’ caught on he was travellin’ under ’nuther name—­some durn French contraction—­but thet’s as much as I ever did find out.  Finally, up in Independence I wus so durn near broke I reckoned I ‘d better put what I hed left in a grub stake, an’ drift back yere.  I figgered thet maybe I could pick up some o’ those Injun cattle again, and maybe some mavericks, an’ so start ’nuther herd.  Anyhow I could lie low fer a while, believin’ Le Fevre wus sure ter come back soon as he thought the coast wus clear.  I knew then he an’ Koleta was in cahoots an’ he ‘d be headin’ this way after the stock.  So I come down yere quiet, an’ laid fer him to show up.”

“What then?”

“Nuthin’ much, till yisterday.  I got tergether some cows, herded down river a ways, out o’ sight in the bluffs, but hev hed ter keep mighty quiet ter save my hair.  Them Cheyennes are sure pisen this year, an’ raisin’ Cain.  I never see ’em so rambunctious afore.  But I hung on yere, hidin’ out, cause I didn’t hev nowhar else ter go.  An’ yisterday, just ahead o’ the blizzard, a Kiowa buck drifted in yere.  Slipped down the bluff, an’ caught me ’fore ever I saw him.  Never laid eyes on the red afore but he wus friendly ‘nough, natch’ally mistakin’ me fer one o’ Le Fevre’s herders.  His name wus Black Smoke, an’ he could n’t talk no English worth mentionin’, but we made out to understan’ each other in Mex.  He wus too darn hungry and tired to talk much anyhow.  But I got what I wanted to know out o’ him.”

“Well, go on, Hughes; you are making a long story out of it.”