Range Ghost by Bradford Scott Page B

know. Them I did not follow; it is not discreet to do so.”
    “Decidedly not,” Slade agreed.
    “I would presume,” added Estaban, “that they continued south. Much unlikely that they would turn east or west.”
    “Darned unlikely,” Slade replied. “Well, this sort of tangles my twine for me. I was sure they would pass up the Valley and on to New Mexico and the hills.”
    “That they did not,” insisted Estaban. “And I have heard that others crossed the Valley to the west of here and reached the outer plains by another little used route up the slope.”
    “Which means,” Slade said slowly, “that they must have finally turned west to the desert. And no herd of beefs could cross that desert without water. A large portion of the first half of the drive would have to be made during the burning daylight hours. By nightfall the cattle would be completely exhausted, would have to be allowed to rest, and without water would perish.”
    Estaban shrugged again. “ Capitan, I know not the answer, but pass up the Valley they did not,” he declared.
    For some minutes Slade sat silent, pondering this most puzzling bit of information. No more than Estaban did he know the answer. He could only conclude that if the widelooped cows were turned west south of the Canadian, there must be water somewhere out on that inferno of heat and sand and alkali dust. He recalled that oldtimers insisted that the Indians did use the desert route to run stock and that they knew where water was to be found—which Slade had always discounted. Explorers had crossed the desert on horse back more than once and all had reported it to be a waterless waste where, should a sudden windstorm arise, and they were frequent, even a man on a good horse took his life in his hands when attempting the crossing.
    Well, he had to find the answer somehow. And meanwhile he was evolving a plan that, with a little luck, might be productive of results. It was an exceedingly hazardous plan and a little slip on his part could easily prove fatal. However, he felt the possible gain was worth some risk.
    “Estaban,” he said, “when did the last bunch cross the Valley, do you know?”
    “Si,” the Mexican replied. “Five nights agone. There are those here who are curious and who, well hidden, have watched. None watch tonight, for it is a night of fiesta at the plazas and all attend to take part in the merrymaking.”
    “Five nights since anything went through,” the Ranger repeated thoughtfully. “And last night was the payday bust, with most of the hands from thespreads in town. I know nearly all of John Fletcher’s Diamond F bunch were, and tonight they will sleep soundly. Anyhow, I’m going to play a hunch. Yes, I’ve a notion the gents might try to pull something to night.”
    “But why not last night when most of the vaqueros were in town getting drunk?” Estaban wondered.
    “Because formerly payday night was quite frequently when raids were made, but of late the cattlemen have been taking added precautions on payday nights and have several riders patrolling the range. Whoever is heading the operations in this section has brains and would take that into consideration. Largely guesswork on my part, of course, but worth giving some thought to. Anyhow, I’m going to play the hunch.”
    “You will be in great danger, Capitan, a lone man against many desperate ladrones. ”
    “Not too much, if I can work it so the element of surprise is my advantage,” Slade answered. “I’ll take it easy for a couple more hours and give Shadow a chance to catch his breath and then I’ll ride. By that time there will be a moon in the sky, which should help.”
    “ Capitan, let me accompany you,” said Estaban.
    Slade shook his head. “No, I think I can handle this one better by myself. If it comes to a showdown and things get a mite too hot, I always have Shadow to depend on; he can show his heels to anything I’m likely to meet up with. You’ve already been a