has a field glass!"
Fessenden turned with an oath, and Poinsett glared around. Only Shaw spoke. His voice was strained and queer. 'A grulla? Here?"
He refused to say more, but Kedrick studied him, puzzled by the remark. It was almost as if Shaw knew a grulla horse, but had not expected it to be seen here. The same might be true of Sue Laine, wh o was obviously upset by his comment. Long after they rode on, turning back toward the spring on the North Fork, Kedrick puzzled over it. This was an entirely new element that might mean anything or nothing.
There was little talking on the way back. Poinsett was obviously irritated that they had not ridden into a fight, yet he seemed content enough to settle down into another camp.
Chapter IV
DORNIE SHAW was silent. Only when Tom Kedrick arose after supper and began to saddle his horse did he look up. Kedrick glanced at him. "Shaw, I'm ridin' to Yellow Butte. I'm going to look that setup over at first hand. I don't want trouble an' I'm not huntin' any, but I want to know what we're tacklin'."
Shaw was standing, staring after him, when he rode off. Kedrick rode swiftly, pushing due west at a good pace to take advantage of the remaining light. He had more than one reason for the ride. He wanted to study the town and the terrain, but also he wanted to see what the people were like. Were they family men? Or were they outlaws? He had see n little thus far that tended to prove the outlaw theory. The town of Yellow Butte lay huddled at the base of the long oval-shaped mesa from which it took its name. There, on a bit of flat land, the stone and frame buildings of the town had gathered together. Most of them backed against the higher land behind them, and faced toward the arroyo. Only three buildings and the corrals were on the arroyo side, but one thing was obvious. The town had never been planned for defense.
A rifleman or two on top of Yellow Butte could cover any movement in the village; and the town was exposed to fire from both the high ground behind the town and the bed of the arroyo, where there was shelter under its banks. The butte itself was scarcely one hundred and fifty feet higher than the town and looked right down the wide street in front of the buildings.
Obviously, however, some move had been made toward defense or was in the process of being made for occasional piles of earth near several of the buildings were plainly from recent digging. He studied them, puzzled over their origin and cause. Finally, he gave up and scouted the area.
Thoughtfully, he glanced at the butte. Had the squatters thought of putting their own riflemen up there? It would seem the obvious thing, yet more than one competent commander, at some time during his career, had forgotten the obvious. It might also be true of these men. He noted that the top of the butte not only commanded the town, but most of the country around, and was the highest point within several miles.
Kedrick turned his palouse down the hill toward the town. He rode in the open, his right hand hanging free at his side. If he was seen, nothing was done to disturb him. What if there were more than one rider?
He swung down before the Butte Saloon and tied his horse at the rail. He knew the animal was weary and in no shape for a long ride.
The street was empty. He stepped up on the walk and pushed through the swinging doors into the bright lights of the interior. A man sitting alone at a table saw him, scowled and started to speak, then thought better of it and went on with his solitaire. Tom Kedrick crossed to the bar. 'Rye," he said quietly.
The bartender nodded and poured the drink. It was not until Kedrick dropped his coin on the bar that the bartender looked up. Instantly, his face stiffened. 'Who're your he demanded. I never saw you before!"
Kedrick was aware that two men had closed in on him. Both of them were strangers. One was a sharp looking, oldish man, the other an obviously belligerent redhead. 'Pour a drink for